


Holmes Everlasting

by theDOCStardis



Series: Holmes Everlasting [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2017-08-16
Packaged: 2018-07-27 00:20:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 57
Words: 404,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7596034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theDOCStardis/pseuds/theDOCStardis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft Holmes was born in 60 B.C.E in the Roman empire, and found Greg in 27 B.C.E. Since then, they have lead several lives together, Greg always coming back to him throughout the centuries, but this time, when he finds the silver haired fox, turns out the man is already married.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cover

**Author's Note:**

> Co-Written with the lovely Kaitlin, who is actually not on this site, but who has helped me create this amazing fic! We both have gone over it, and still are editing as we reread, so I can't promise it's perfect, especially because there are quite a few languages we do not speak that are in here. We try our best, but welcome others to let us know if something is off so we can correct it! Thanks!

**HOLMES EVERLASTING**  

[](http://clarice82art.tumblr.com/image/153445565290)   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This beautiful piece was done by the talented Clarice82 on tumblr!!!! Check out her blog, the link is actually on the image! She's fantastic to work with and we are so happy with how this turned out!


	2. Cover

_“Come now little brother, we are going to be late,” The year was 27 B.C.E and Marcus Agrippa had come to dedicate the Pantheon in Rome. Of course, their family shop had been closed earlier than normal, having left the domus at 11 am to make it to the ceremony. His little brother was close behind, a small boy with bright eyes and a thick head full of black curls, far different than his own appearance, being tall, lanky with ginger hair. Holding tight to the young boy’s hand, they made their way through the streets towards the now towering building, such a great sight and feat of architecture that it had drawn attention from hundreds, if not thousands who were there to celebrate its dedication that day. As they drew closer to the crowd, his brother’s insistent tug on his hand was getting worse, having to scold him a couple times to stay close as to not get lost. Of course, those warnings had fallen on deaf ears as the young boy broke free and ran, darting through the crowd._

_Frustrated, He made his way through the crowd, looking for those signature curls, but coming up short handed. Letting out a huff of frustration, he picked his way through the crowds, his eyes scanning over the masses of people who were only growing in numbers, his heart beating and his search becoming more and more frantic. It wasn’t until he saw a flash of the black curls that he picked up the speed and walked in that direction, breaking through the crowd and seeing the young boy next to a kneeling man, around his age. Pausing, he watched as Sherlock looked to the man in front of him, giving a small pout as if he had been told something he didn’t want to hear, and watching the other stand and take his brother’s hand, those eyes now scanning the crowd. Stepping forward, he smiled as he got a good look at this man, tall, handsome, dark brown hair, tanned skin, and deep chocolate eyes._

_“Thank you so much for finding him, I can’t believe he ran off,” Mycroft stepped in, reaching his hand out to Sherlock and pulling the young boy to his side. “You know you have to stay by my side, you don’t want me telling father that you ran off now do you?” He questioned, the little one shaking his head but staying silent. “How can I ever thank you…. Sir?” Fishing for a name, he waited to hear the other respond, growing more and more interested in the other, the longer he could look him over and deduce more about him. Good robes, came from a middle class family, looking for a career as a gladiator, or possibly in the Roman army, youngest in his family, hard worker, and very caring and patient. Interesting._

_“It was no trouble at all, the names Gregori,” The man held out his hand in a gesture of greeting, and Mycroft took it, a spark traveling up his spine as he made contact with the other._

_“Nice to meet you Gregori. My name is Mycroft, and this is Sherlock.” Their names had always been quite unique, and people often teased them for their odd sound, but his mother hadn’t been from Rome, she was from the north when their father had met her. She of course, had chosen their names, which were not traditional roman names in the slightest._

_“Mycroft huh? I think I’ve heard of your family. You live in the domus at the end of Via Salaria, yeah? Interesting names by the way, unlike some of the other whispers I’ve heard at the bathhouse, I think your names are unique and beautiful in their own right,” Ah, so this man was friendly, and a flirt. Giving a small smile to the other, he let out a soft chuckle._

_“Well, yes, we do occupy that household, and thank you for being above the whispers. I am assuming you have come to attend the dedication of the Pantheon? Would you care to join us? Sometimes Sherlock can be a handful by myself, and he seems to have taken akin to you,” As if on cue, Sherlock tugged on his hand again, trying to run off in another direction, but was easily snagged back, Gregori letting out a small laugh._

_“Sure, that would be nice,” The man had a crooked grin that could stop his heart, if that were at all possible, and it was then that Mycroft knew, he was doomed to fall head over heels for this man._

_*****_

                “Sir, we have a call from the New Scotland Yard. It’s Detective Inspector Lestrade, calling in regards to your brother.” The announcement came through, shrill and loud from the new P.A system they had just installed, Mycroft’s ears ringing as he was not quite accustomed to the intrusion yet. Sighing, he pressed his fingers to his eyes, rubbing in small circles then pinching the bridge of his nose in exhaustion; what _had_ Sherlock got himself into now? He happened to have been enjoying himself, recalling the first time he had met Gregory all those centuries ago, and as always, Sherlock had a knack of bringing him back to a painful reality. With a groan, he leaned forward, pressing the respond button and taking a deep breath before replying.

                “Thank you Anthea, I will take the call.” It was patched through right away, though he waited a few rings before answering, holding the receiver to his ear and trying to calm the rage that was building within him. “This is Mr. Holmes,” What ridiculous thing had Sherlock done this time, and what would it take to get him out of it. That was all he wanted to know, but his heart froze when he heard the voice on the other line. Eyes wide, his mouth dropped open and a knot formed in his throat as he heard that familiar voice. “Gregory?” His voice was barely above a whisper, not something he had meant to say out loud, rather something that had slipped as it had been nearly fifty years since he had heard the other speak. It was almost as if just the other morning he had said his goodbyes. In all reality, it had been nearly sixty years since the other had passed, last seeing him in the year 1943. They had met for the eleventh time at the turn of the century, fell in love and bought the house he currently resided in together, but the sickness that came from the war and old age had taken Gregory away from him. Mycroft was immortal, never aged, the same as his parents and brother, and his closest friend, Anthea. There weren’t many that knew their secret, most having passed ages ago. The number of immortal born children were growing smaller and smaller each year, as it was growing increasingly more difficult for them to bring their partners back to them, what with the world expanding and the increasing amount of ways one could meet an end. Whether it was luck or meant to be, Mycroft was happy to have found Gregory every time he had come back, always ending those last days with him, knowing he would be back again soon. 

                “Er, yes, hello. Greg Lestrade, New Scotland Yard. Your brother…” The other man started, but faltering when Mycroft had whispered his name. “Uh… yeah, technically. Um, anyway, Mr. Holmes, your brother Sherlock has been arrested for trespassing on an active crime scene, and for drug use.” Of course Sherlock would be the one to find Gregory this time, his brother always did have a knack of making strange connections and finding people in the most unlikely of places. Though showing up high to a crime scene sounded very much like something he would do, Mycroft just wished that it hadn’t been Gregory’s crime scene. Sherlock had resorted to drugs to try and ‘numb’ himself, supposedly because he found everything so very dull, but Mycroft knew the real reason was so he didn’t remember the pain from losing John. 

                “I deeply apologise, and I will be down to the Yard in just under ten minutes to speak with you about the situation.” Mycroft quickly gestured to Anthea to call the car to the front of the building while he started to clear off his desk, locking away the files that he had be working on. “Thank you Gregory, for calling me. I hope that I can make it up to you in some way, I will see you soon. Good bye.” With that, he hung up the phone and strode out the door, slipping into the waiting car and watching out the window as the streets of London passed him by. What was Sherlock’s game this time, was he still determined to muck up everything like he had the past few centuries? When Sherlock lost John, the shock and pain had been too much for him, and he had refused to try again the next time he had appeared. Anthea had been keeping tabs on John, finding him when he showed up and attempting to have Sherlock speak with him, but he refused, and in turn, was determined to make Mycroft suffer as well, claiming it was so he wouldn’t feel the pain when he inevitably lost Gregory again. If he tried anything, there would be more pain in store for Sherlock than he could have ever imagined possible, he would not tolerate it anymore.

                It did not take long to reach the Yard, under ten minutes like he had promised, his car stopping at the curb in front of the steps to the main entrance. Taking a slow breath, Mycroft collected his thoughts before making his way out, bypassing security with ease, his government issued ID badge to thank. Once on the third floor at the Major Crimes Division, his calm was returning with the office in sight. Making his way towards the back, his walk was stopped when a short, thin woman with soft features, a mess of curly black hair and an expression that tried to exude intimidation but failed, stepped out in front of him. She was a Sergeant, that much he could tell by her badge and the name plate on her desk, but other than that, he wasn’t sure why she was standing in his way, her hands on her hips and her features stern.

                “Excuse me Sergeant… Donovan, but if you would kindly step aside, I have business to attend to.” Giving her a curt nod, Mycroft tried to step to the side but was blocked yet again, this time her hands crossed her chest with a huff of irritation. He was typically the poster child for cool, calm and collected, having to deal with whining and childish politicians every day for work, but when someone decided to be the single thing standing between him and seeing Gregory for the first time in nearly sixty years, he was starting to lose that control very quickly, his features turning to a very deep frown. “I will politely ask you once more” His voice threatening and very stern as he took a deep breath, trying to muster the control to deal with this insignificant woman. “Please step aside.” There was more force in his voice, but he could tell by the look she gave him that she was not about to give in. “Fine, make this harder on yourself, I did warn you.”

 

*****

 

                Greg almost laughed as he watched over the man who was now having the most ridiculous sulk he had ever witness in his life. Sherlock was certainly interesting, obviously painfully high at the moment, yet still completely with it and able to sort out the crime scene he had been hauled away from. That wasn’t to say that he was in any way okay with the other wandering onto his scene and acting as if he owned the place. Sherlock had settled in the corner of the holding cell with his knees to his chest, watching him in annoyance and still muttering about the case. Greg could see the sweat that was starting to break out across the younger man’s brow, meaning that he had only been shooting up a little over twelve hours ago. He should have guessed it was only such a short time, the man already displaying unstable moods and having thrown up on his way over, not to mention the nice set of track marks he was sporting on those pale arms of his.

                “Alright mate, let’s get you some water and ibuprofen before you get too miserable with your withdrawal.” Sighing, he moved to the break room next door, finding what he needed before returning and handing over a cup of water and a few tablets, watching as Sherlock took them with shaky hands. “You’ll be alright, yeah?” As the other took the pills and swallowed them down, Greg went to throw the used cup away before moving to sit next to the younger man. “Look, you seem bright, but you can’t just walk into my scene like that. I don’t want to charge you with trespassing, I really don’t. Maybe if you agree to help us with this case, tell us what you know, we’ll drop the worst of the charges?” He leaned forward, trying to catch the gaze of the other to see if he was even listening. “I want you to go to rehab as well, I have a really great place, done wonders for others, mind giving it a try?” After a few moments of silence between the two, Sherlock nodded, making eye contact so he knew that he understood. “Great, give me a moment to go grab a recorder and a flier and I’ll be back.”

                Making his way back up to the third floor, he was greeted by the sight of a tall man, his back to him, being staved off by Sally who looked as if she was about to fight and cuff him.

                “Oi!” He shouted, quickly stepping between the two of them, holding his hands up to separate them. His attention fell to the taller man, now desperately trying to hide the sudden warmth that Greg felt across his cheeks; oh god… this man was handsome, and for some reason he seemed vaguely familiar. “You must be Mycroft,” He hesitated to guess not because the man in front of him looked anything like Sherlock, but because the personality he saw within those few seconds clearly proved them to be blood. “Don’t worry about it Sally, I called for him to come for the guy from the scene. Come with me, I’m just getting something from my desk for your brother, then we can be on our way. Um… can I get you anything?” Greg didn’t know what to make of the man who was standing in front of him, only to level Sally with a glare when she smirked over at him. “Go do your job,” He muttered, nudging her with a good humoured shove towards her desk as he lead the way over to his office.

                “No thank you, I’m fine. Can I request that we speak a moment before we go down to see Sherlock, if it is not too much to ask?” Mycroft spoke, following closely behind him as they entered his office.

                “Well, Sherlock’s high, and I have to charge him with that… but he’s bloody smart and has some good leads on the scene he was found on, so I’m going to push for a deal. If the leads pan out and he goes to rehab, I’ll drop the trespassing charges.” He explained once they were in his office and the door had be closed. Greg went around to his desk, plopping into his chair and digging around the piles of papers to find the information he was looking for. “I figure that was what you would want to talk about, yeah?” He asked, looking back at the man who was still watching him. He _had_ seen this man before, somewhere… maybe? Felt like he had, even though he was sure he would remember a name like Mycroft if he had heard it before. 

                “For starters, yes.” Mycroft gave a soft smile as he took the opposite seat from him, his hands settling on a very expensive and old looking brolly. “I would like to offer something else though, that might keep him clean and benefit us both in the long run. I am sure you have experienced a taste of what Sherlock is capable of, and you have also experienced what he can be like, especially while under the influence.” Well if that wasn’t an understatement, he didn’t know what was. The man was a bloody genius, but decided to waste his talent with drugs it would seem. “I propose,” Mycroft continued after a few moments, “That with my help, he can work his way up. Start with cold cases, and as he proves his cooperation and worth, make his way to helping with active cases. Granted, this would mean he needs to be clean, and random tests will be given, but I think this would work far better than rehab. I’ve tried with Sherlock, and every single time, the institution kicks him out.”

                This was not what he was expecting though, blinking in surprise as Mycroft started talking about the two of them working together to keep Sherlock clean, and have the man working for him, or with him it seemed more like.

                “Clearly, this isn’t your first rodeo,” Greg muttered, glancing down at the umbrella that Mycroft was subconsciously toying with. Smiling, he realised this man was old fashioned, and apparently assumed that hard work was all that was needed to keep clean. “I’ll talk with him, see what he thinks. I’ve got a rehab place that I’ve had pretty good luck with in the past, but it’ll depend on his behaviour when not high as a kite. Now, if you’ll forgive me, I need to go downstairs and chat with your brother.” Greg gave a small groan as he stood, having found what he was looking for and holding Mycroft’s gaze for a moment before looking away. “He complained about me calling you to bail him out. I told him I’d keep you from getting too mad at him, just don’t make a liar out of me, yeah?”

                “Of course not Gregory, I would never dare.” Mycroft held his hands up in mock surrender, his voice soft and gentle, something about it making him trust those words as they made their way through the office and down towards the holding cell. As they got into the lift to head down, Greg toyed with the flier in his hand and tried not to seem too odd as he studied the man beside him. There was definitely a familiarity to him, one that shouldn’t exist for having just met someone for the first time. “Did he give you my number then?”

                Hearing Mycroft speak brought him out of his own thoughts and Greg gave a curt nod, clearing his throat before responding. “He did give me your number, yeah. Said I wouldn’t get you any other way. Guess you’re unlisted? He asked.

                “Unlisted is one way of putting it. My number is not accessible. Security factor really, comes with the job. Minor position in the British Government,” _Minor position my arse_. Greg didn’t believe that for a second, but he wasn’t about to challenge him on that front. As long as he had a way to contact him about Sherlock that was all that particularly mattered. Though now that he thought about it, he was a bit curious as to what position someone would have that they covered themselves with the title of ‘minor position’ and were unlisted in the directory. Perhaps he could ask him the next time they met, as he had a gut feeling they would be in contact quite a bit now, and the DI was happy to ignore the nervous excitement that bubbled up in his stomach at the thought of that. Stepping out of the lift, Greg lauged at the glare they were met with from Sherlock, crossing his arms over his chest and smiling. “You can’t look at us like that mate. You knew I was calling him. Come on, I have a center that’s good and Mycroft here has got an idea that we could talk about a bit more once you’re clean.”

                Making their way to an interview room so they could hash out the basics of a plan, Sherlock flashed a self-indulged smirk to his brother. Sherlock started filing out the paperwork, cooperating with another officer to have him booked, and for his information to be sent to the rehabilitation center. As the other office walked the younger man out and to the next room, Greg stayed back with Mycroft, crossing his arms over his chest as he watched the curly haired man resist, but not with enough for force to be a problem.

               “So, with your ‘minor position’ and all, I’m not sure they will give you any information on him as he’s not a minor, but I can pass on updates if you want, email you… or have lunch or something.” Greg offered, giving into the ever growing guilty urge to see the man again. He was only asking for lunch meetings, he reminded himself.

               “Lunch would be lovely. I am not sure how often you would think it necessary, but I think I can make time in my schedule to see you once every two weeks or so, whichever you think is best. I am not sure how often they would update you on his status.” Well at least Mycroft didn’t take his invitation for lunch as a pass… that was good, right? “I have a wing in the Diogenes club that would be perfect. My staff can make us lunch and we can discuss these topics in private as I wouldn’t want anyone outside yourself to know the details of Sherlock’s treatment.”

               “Wait, wait, wait.” Greg held up his hands in disbelief, his eyes wide in shock. “ _Your_ wing? Yeah, minor position my arse,” He chuckled, rubbing his face with his hand as he tried to take in that information. “I should be able to contact them and ask for a basic overview of how he’s doing, more of less check on good or bad behaviour. Every two weeks will be fine if that works for you. As for your club… I’ll see if I have a suit that can work for that. I might be confused for a homeless by your fellow mates in there, but hey, least I tried?” Greg chuckled, avoiding Mycroft’s gaze out of embarrassment and instead watching Sherlock finish up.

               “Every two weeks it is then, and Gregory, please keep this to yourself, you are one of four people who have this number now, and I would like to keep it that way,” Confused, Greg turned to face the other, his brows furrowing as he noticed the other reach inside his jacket, pulling out a card. Smirking at the sight of the card that Mycroft had handed over to him, curious as to why he would have a professional card made for a private number that no one else had access to, but apparently it was neither here nor there with this man.

               “You know, I really can’t decide if you’re Bond or the villain,” The officer teased, feeling far more relaxed than he should with someone that had so many secrets, but he seemed nice enough and it wasn’t like he was about to call a rain of hellfire onto him should he sneeze at the wrong moment. Tucking the card into his pocket for later, he looked back to Sherlock with a smirk.

               The younger man looked just as annoyed as ever though now his gaze had moved from the two of them, to those in the room with him. “He doesn’t seem like a bad person, you know. Just… lost, a bit I guess. With how quick he was willing to agree to rehab, he knows what he’s doing and he’s just bored otherwise. Just needs someone in his corner,” Greg mused softly, fidgeting with his wedding band as he tended to do without realising it. “Just needs a friend, you know? A lot of us do, but especially him.” He was about to talk more about their agreement when Mycroft’s expression changed to look like he had seen a ghost. Looking over to him in clear confusion as he didn’t know what could have possibly have triggered such a reaction, Greg checked to see that Sherlock was behaving himself. He was, albeit a bit like a limp noodle as the other officers helped him into a wheelchair to move him around.

               “I-I’m afraid I must be going. Paperwork…” The politician stammered, backing away slowly. “Good afternoon, G-Gregory…” He turned on his heal and headed out the door, before Greg could really get another word in.

               “Er, yeah… I’ll text you.” He called after the politician, his shoulders dropping slightly when he didn’t get a response back. Sighing, he turned his attention to Sherlock instead, deciding he should make good on his comment of the man needing a friend and try and be that for him.

 

*****

               Walking through the front door of his office, Mycroft was relieved to see Anthea sitting behind her desk and gave her a look to follow after him. Anthea always knew what to say to make him feel better, but this time he wasn’t sure how she might fix this. Setting his things down, he moved to the cabinet at the far end of the room, grabbing out a couple tumblers and pouring a bit of his fine whiskey.

               “He’s married…” He finally managed after a few sips of his drink, staring off into the distance, wondering and how the hell he was going to manage this one. “Before you ask, yes, I am sure, he had a wedding ring that he was toying with this afternoon, and I should have seen the other signs but I was just too distracted from seeing him to notice he was taken.” Sighing, Mycroft closed his eyes and tried to block the feeling in his head and chest that was currently attempting to suffocate him. The roaring in his ears was calmed when he felt Anthea’s soft hand on top of his and her gentle voice.

               “Just because he is married, does not mean it is a happy marriage. I did some digging after I found out that you were off to see Gregory and found a couple of things that might interest you.” She laid a file on the desk in front of him before sitting back and sipping on her whiskey. Opening the file, there was picture of Gregory on top, tanned skin, brown eyes, and silver hair, along with a short description of his birthday, age, job description and marital status. Frowning, he continued to flip through the folder till he came to a page with _her_ name at the top, Caroline. Reading quickly, his eyes skimmed till he reached the bit at the bottom that mentioned she was having multiple affairs, with the post man, the P.E Teacher, and her yoga instructor.

               “I take it he knows then,” Looking up at the other and waiting for the nod. “This is unfortunate, but I am glad that it is not as terrible as I had thought.” It was still not going to be easy, this would mean they would take longer to develop their relationship as he first had to leave the woman he was married to now. “Thank you my dear.” Never once in the many times he had met Gregory had the other man already been in a relationship with someone else, especially not married. Then again, he usually encountered the other when he was far younger, typically his early thirties instead of his early fifties this time around, not that he was complaining as the man was still stunning, and Mycroft had no room to talk with his age. 


	3. II

 

         The next week and a half went without any major issues, Greg having been asked to be on notice should Sherlock act out so he could try and get a handle on things. The worst he had heard so far was that he went on a very odd, and very specific rant about the type of cigarettes someone was smoking, but apart from that, there hadn’t been any news. Greg had elected to save that one for the lunch he was still hoping to share with Mycroft sometime that week, though he hadn’t heard anything from the man outside of a very quick email from someone he could only assume was Anthea. Tapping his thumb against the side of his mobile and glaring daggers at the tepid coffee and day old sandwich he had for lunch, Greg decided to take the first step in what felt like the oddest friendship he would ever hold. He quickly sent out a message to Mycroft to see if the number he had been given even worked, or if it had just been for show.

> **Hey. It's Greg. DI Lestrade. Just wondering if we're still up for having a lunch meeting or not. Sherlock's been behaving himself, but there's still some stories I think you’d like to hear. Just let me know when you have the chance. GL**
> 
> _Yes, of course I still plan on our lunch, Gregory. I am a man of my words and I said we would every two weeks. I look forward to hearing the stories that you have. -M_

         While the last week and a half had been good when it came to work, home had been hell and Greg was just happy there was someone who actually wanted to see him instead of acting as if it were a chore to be around him. Blessedly, everyone at the Yard knew to keep their opinions to themselves, Donovan stepping up for him on more than one occasion when someone would cross the line. Still, there was an odd sense of familiarity he felt towards Mycroft, one that he couldn’t quite place no matter how hard he tried to, but at least it didn’t feel like a whole bunch of red flags. It definitely wasn’t one like he felt towards his wife, if she could still be called that. Pulling himself from his thoughts, Greg returned his attention to his phone, smiling faintly down at the message as he quickly tapped out a response.

> **Didn't mean to call you a liar. Guess I'm looking forward to it is all. Don't make it too fancy, yeah? I'm not the Queen. Having tea out of something besides a paper cup is already going to feel like a splurge for me. I feel like I should offer to bring something, but I don't know what. GL**
> 
> _You did nothing of the sort, so do not fret. I am looking forward to this as well. I cannot promise anything less than fine china and silk hand clothes. Maybe I will even have my butler feed you your food on a silver fork, - M_
> 
> He chuckled at that last bit, finding it a tad humourous. Gregory was looking forward to their lunch. He was either being far too optimistic about this, or things were going far better than he had expected.
> 
> **Oh my God, Mycroft, I swear if you do that... GL**
> 
> _Do not worry about bringing anything but yourself, please. It is my way to say thank you for your help with Sherlock. -M_
> 
> _If I do that, what will you do? I am interested in hearing what you have to say. -M_
> 
> **Well, here's to hoping your brother doesn't make you regret that. Do you know when we can meet up? Besides a major case popping up, I should be free the rest of this week, and after four on Thursday. GL**
> 
> **I don't know. But something. You'd regret it, I'll make sure of it. I’ll put mustard on all your linens, or something like that, not sure yet… GL**
> 
> _Would tomorrow at 1 work for you? I have meetings up until 12:30, which will give me enough time afterwards to calm myself from the droll I will be hearing all morning and prepare to have a splendid lunch with you. –M_

         Greg attempted to find some hollow threat that was obvious he was simply joking around, glancing around his office and sighing as he brushed some dust off a shelf with his hand. Everything felt as if it had gone stagnant in his life. Was that why he was so excited about the possibility of having something new happen to him? Raising an eyebrow at the offer to have lunch at one, he pulled up his schedule for the next day and grinned when he saw that his only two meetings were scheduled for the first part of the day and he would be done by eleven.

> **Sounds great. Hopefully London will behave herself and let me have lunch for once. GL**

         With that, Greg decided to do a bit of cleaning up around his office, mostly just wiping dust off his shelves with a rag, but it made him feel a tiny bit better about himself. At least not everything was going to hell around him.

*****

                  Setting his mobile down, Mycroft smiled at the jokes the other was making, glad that the conversation seemed to flow easily between them. He stood to call for Anthea, moving to open his office door and smile at the woman sitting just outside.

                  “My dear, I assume the decorations to the wing have been finished and the menu is prepared for tomorrow? We don’t need another disaster like 1869 do we?” Mycroft chuckled as he called to her, moving to put away the last of his files. They had been preparing in anticipation for the past two weeks, updating the décor and making sure nothing was forgotten for this lunch.

                  “Yes, everything is put together, so don’t you worry. I wouldn’t dream of recreating that night.” Mycroft moved to his bookshelf, pulling out his photo album, careful as the binding was loose and very creased. Seeing as photography had only just been invented, only the last few times were pictures, but Mycroft had paid good money to have high quality digital scans of his paintings, so he could keep them in the album as well. Anthea walked over to him, taking the photo album out of his hands and flipping through the pages. “This one, this is my favourite.” She smiled, handing him back the book as he looked to the page. It was from the Italian Renaissance, and they were both dressed in dapper clothes, having just attended the Venetian Masquerade Festival. The memory brought a smile back to his face as he looked over the images with fondness.

                  “Well, I like him now the best, and I hope it will be the last photo here.” He smiled, taking his book and putting it back on the shelf with care. Moving back to his desk, Mycroft took his mobile back out and shot a few other messages to Greg, sighing as he looked at the screen.

> _If you expect me to dress everything up, including our linens tomorrow… do you really believe I will be bringing mustard along? How dreadfully plane would that be. –M_
> 
> _I will make sure I do everything in my power to have London behave herself, I promise on the hand of the queen. Which, I’m sure she would be delighted to meet you at some point, she does have this odd fascination with meeting all of those that I give my personal number to, says it tells her more about myself. –M_
> 
> **I expect you not to dress anything up. I’ll have you know that there’s nothing wrong with mustard, it is a perfectly good condiment in its own right, thank you very much. GL**
> 
> **Though now I have the greatest urge to take you to a fish and chips stand, just to see your reaction. GL**
> 
> **Please don’t make me meet the Queen. I’m sure she’s a wonderful woman, but I have no doubt that I’ll break every rule in creation, and I don’t need that kind of humiliation in my life. GL**
> 
> **Also, being on a first name basis with the Queen really doesn’t help your whole ‘minor governmental position’ story, My. Just saying. –GL**
> 
> _It may be a suitable condiment if you are eating street food, but not appropriate for what we are having tomorrow. Don’t even bother asking what it is either, I will not spoil a good surprise. –M_
> 
> _Might it shock you to know that I have been to a fish and chip stand? Though I would prefer what the chef makes here. –M_
> 
> _Afraid to meet Elizabeth? Trust me, she is far more relaxed than you would think, and I don’t believe she would mind if you ‘broke’ a few of those rules you speak of, though I am not sure what those might be. As far as my position in the government, I think you have a very overactive imagination. Have you ever met another government official? How do you know it is not normal for every public servant to have a wing in the Diogenes and his own staff, as well as a relationship with the Queen? –M_

         “Smiling at your phone and typing away? I can only guess who that is on the other side,” Mycroft heard Anthea as she stood in the door frame, arms folded and leaning against the jamb, looking to him with a sweet smile on her lips. “I have a good feeling about this time around My, just you wait.” With that, she turned and left his office, closing the door behind her. He hoped she was right, that this would be it, but he would never let himself fully believe that in fear that it would hurt too much when he lost Gregory again.

> **Aw come on! The grease and questionable sanitation standards are what gives it flavour! GL**
> 
> **Actually, when I was a younger officer, I worked a couple of security jobs around the Parliament building when they needed extra help and chatted with a few of them there. Maybe I met you there before… Sorry if it seems creepy, but I’ve been trying to place where I could have met you before, because I’ve had a constant feeling of déjà vu since I met you, but I can’t figure out why. GL**
> 
> **Still, I feel like I’d end up saying something that would be taken horribly offensive, and I would be tossed in the gardens or something equally Bond villainy with you involved. GL**

         Mycroft’s nose crinkled at the idea of the grease and sub-par sanitation that surrounded the street food culture, especially when adding mustard. Instead, he would stick with his typical food, something that reminded him of home. Then again, no one made food like that anymore, and some of the spices were too hard to find, but on difficult nights, like when Gregory passed away, Anthea would go out of her way to make him a good meal to try and console him. When he read that Gregory was trying to place him as if they had met before, his heart skipped a beat. There wasn’t a good way to tell the other that he had known him for centuries, they were bonded for life, and after several incarnations, Mycroft was hoping to have him remember it all so he could stay with him forever. No, the words sounded preposterous in his own mind and he knew the truth, and frankly, it would be quite difficult to have Gregory come back to him from the inside of an Asylum.

> _Unless you threaten the queen's life, I can assure you that you won't be disposed of in the gardens. I do hope that you are aware that I am in no way connected to MI6, and do not enjoy legwork, so I would not fit in there at all. –M_
> 
> **I still vote not to meet the Queen… at least not any time soon. As long as no butlers try coming at me with a silver knife, I think I'll be good. But... for how comfortable and familiar it might feel to talk, I'm sure you're also familiar with ever growing piles of papers to sort through. I'll see you tomorrow? GL**
> 
> _See you tomorrow Gregory. –M_

_*****_

         Greg felt bad for needing to cut off their conversation, but he had gone far past his normal lunch hour and really did need to get back to work. Setting his phone off to the side, he returned to his work, powering through as much as he could. Just as he was about to go home, he received a text from his wife, saying that she was staying out with a friend for the night and not to wait up. Of course, he knew what that meant, and she knew that he knew, but that didn’t stop her. Ever. She would be out, with some man she most likely had just met, and staying with him for the night. He wasn’t even sure why she bothered to message him anymore, as most nights he came home to an empty flat as it were. The excuses didn’t vary much, either she would be out with a friend, a co-worker, staying late on the job, you name it, he had heard it from her. Clenching his jaw and deciding to try and get ahead in his paperwork, Gregory stayed at the office instead, clearing out his inbox and filing the last of the papers from the last case. His simmering anger quickly grew until it was nearly impossible for him to focus on what was in front of him, which luckily, he didn’t need to get done for another week or so. Before he could over think it, Greg scooped up his mobile and sent out a quick text to Mycroft, figuring the worst that could happen would be that the other didn’t respond.

> **Are you willing to go to a pub? Need a drink, would probably do well to have company. GL**
> 
> _Tell me the address and I can be there shortly. Is everything okay? -M_

         Greg immediately sent out the address of the local pub that he tended to go to, whenever he need to get out, either to watch a game or just to have a drink. Of course the majority of the regulars there knew about his home life, and blessedly everyone knew to never, ever, bring it up. He had been going to the pub as it was close to the yard, but far enough away from his flat that she would never come waltzing in with another man. Actually, most of the men he saw there had figured it out before he did, putting it together when he said the wife wasn’t home so he wanted to come and watch the footie match here instead, and how often it seemed to be happening. Skipping on answering if everything was alright or not, Greg sighed and hailed a taxi to take him. He wasn’t even sure he could explain all of this… _bullshit_ via text. It would just sound like a massive pity party, and even though that was what it was, he didn’t want the other to take pity on him.


	4. III

          Getting to the pub before Mycroft did, Greg ordered a beer and didn’t say a thing when he was handed a whiskey as well, before going over to sit in a booth, only glancing up when Mycroft came through the door, looking wholly out of place. 

          “Over here. Sorry about it being so late, just…. wanted some friendly company.” Taking a few sips of his drink, Greg gave the other a forced smile as he took the chair next time him, those eyes searching him over. There were a few moments of silence, and he could tell that Mycroft was looking him over, but hopefully the man had more tact than his brother when it came to what he observed. 

          “Gregory, I’m sure you are aware that I possess the same talents as my brother, and although I do keep them to myself and do not read people as I think it is rude, I can tell there is something is bothering you. I will not push, but I do wish you to know that I am here if you need an ear.” Of course the other would be able to see that all over his face, even if he was trying his best to hide it. His cheeks felt hot as the other laid his hand on his shoulder, his thumb rubbing in small circles. It did mean a lot to him. All he could hope for now was that Mycroft could see that he cared, even if he couldn’t find the words. 

          “You can read me, if you want. It’ll be easier than trying to explain it all, I think.” Greg murmured, looking back up at the man and catching his gaze. There was such warmth, and honest concern for him there that Greg found himself having to drop it again just to keep from turning into a mess in the middle of the pub. Downing the rest of his whiskey and grimacing at the burn, he immediately regretted that action as he pushed the glass aside and turned to his beer instead. “I just don’t want to be alone. I want it to work, but it’s not and she doesn’t care but I do… I don’t know what to do.” 

          “I want you to know, that no matter the outcome, you will never be alone, do you understand? I know you haven’t known me long, but I will be here, whatever your choice may be.” There was a small squeeze from Mycroft’s hand on his shoulder as he listened to him. Coughing a laugh when Mycroft assured him that he would still be there for him, he clenched his jaw and fought against the flood of emotions he felt in the moment over such a gentle show of friendship. He refused to call it affection, because that would open up a whole new can of worms he wasn’t ready for just yet.

          “My….” Greg murmured, shrugging a bit before running a hand through his hair. “God, I really shouldn’t have had that whiskey.” He chickened out, not sure he could really say what was on his mind, and instead settling on switching the topic to something that was seemingly easier to handle. “Thanks, though. Really. I’ve just…. It sounds stupid, and feel free to blame it on the alcohol if I start rambling, but I’ve always had these dreams of different places that I always wanted to take her to, because it felt like going back home, even though I’d never been there before. Germany, Venice, Rome. Took her to Paris once, for a long weekend. God, Mycroft, you wouldn’t believe it, or maybe you would… probably have an office there too or something… but just exploring all the back alleys, it felt like I had lived there, like I couldn’t get lost even if I tried. The only thing she cared about was finding knockoffs of whatever purse or coat or… I don’t know.” He paused, sighing in exasperation, his features turned down into a frown. “She thinks it’s ridiculous that I think I remember these places,” Greg explained, though he slowly deflated as he talked, knowing he sounded crazy. “I’m not crazy, I swear…” 

         “Gregory, I don’t think you are crazy,” Mycroft answered softly, dropping his gaze and worrying his lower lip. Instead of elaborating on what Greg had just said, Mycroft took a completely different turn than expected. “I’ve been to all those places, to Rome, Venice, Paris… such beautiful cities, especially at their heights.” Greg watched as Mycroft lost himself to memory, closing his eyes and smiling before continuing on. “Venice was breathtaking, the boats and channels, though now, it’s a shame the city is starting to sink even further… it would be a tragedy to lose a city like Venice.” Mycroft chuckled softly. “Germany was never my favourite though… but I can appreciate some of the smaller cities. Berlin was far too large for me, as well as Munich. I preferred the countryside with the small, very vibrant homes and cultures.” 

          Greg didn’t know what to say as he listened to Mycroft, not only about the ache that he felt from a man who felt the same about the cities as he did, but more so, the fact that he wanted to correct Mycroft almost immediately when he said that he didn’t like Germany. ‘ _ You loved Heidelberg, you liar.’ _ He didn’t know Mycroft though, had never met the man until now, even if his gut was saying something different. 

          “Paris… that was the home of the arts, the roaring twenties, and it has always held my heart. Not to mention the advancements in literature and painting that were made there as well as the music, it will always have a special place with me.” Mycroft smiled, but then looked worried after a few moments, starting to apologise. “I’m sorry Gregory, I didn’t mean too… They are beautiful places and I’m sorry she couldn’t appreciate them like you did.” 

          “No, you’re…. you’re fine. Just think the drinks are affecting me more than I expected. Probably should have actually eaten dinner first.” Greg covered, though it was partially truth as well. He really should have eaten something before drinking, but this was only number two, so it wasn’t too terrible. Knowing he had Mycroft there made him a bit tempted to keep drinking, if only so he could fall asleep tonight instead of staying up and stewing till he was too exhausted and angry tomorrow to get any work done at the office. Though, if he kept drinking, then he’d be sick in the morning for work, and even though they were sitting together now, Greg still wanted to have their lunch the next day. “It’s just... you talk about them like you were there during those times. Not like I have much room to talk since my dreams feel like that too sometimes. I don’t know… Is it weird to want to be miserable sometimes? Like I don’t want there to be a magic fix to all this because that means that the past didn’t mean anything? That, if sorry made everything better, it would just be because I never cared?” He asked after a long pause, looking up at Mycroft again, glad the alcohol was just starting to cloud his mind enough that maybe the other wouldn’t be able to see the pain in his eyes. 

          “That is what makes you a wonderful, very kind hearted man. That throughout everything, you haven’t become bitter or cynical, that you just wish for peace. As for those cities, I’ve been there, lived in each of them for a while actually…” Mycroft paused, before leaning in a tad closer. “I will admit though, as long as you keep this a secret between you and I, I didn’t completely despise Germany. There were a few years where I lived in Heidelberg with… another, and seeing how happy they were there, and how excited they were to explore the city and learn more about it, well… it makes me remember my time there very fondly,” Mycroft chuckled, his eyes moving down to the ring he wore on his left hand. The band was old and worn, but looked well maintained. There was something nagging at him about being right regarding to Heidelberg, but he was going to brush it off and blame it on the drinks. 

          “I should really eat something, huh? Split some chips with me? They have balsamic vinegar like you like,” Greg offered, his brows immediately furrowing in confusion of what he just had said. 

          “Those sound lovely. No wonder you are Detective Inspector if you were able to deduce that balsamic vinegar were my favourite. Do tell, what gave me away?” Laughing a bit when he said that he did actually like the vaguely odd mixture of balsamic vinegar and chips, he shrugged before sneaking a smug smirk to the other. 

          “Well, I knew it wasn’t going to be mustard,” Greg said with a nudge of his foot under the table, grinning when he was able to make Mycroft laugh. “I don’t know how I knew, it was just a gut feeling. Bit like Heidelberg… I almost argued that you loved that place, but I don’t know you.” He stopped for a moment, his brow furrowing as he tried to say what he actually meant. “I mean, I do, but I don’t... and it’s really confusing even when I’m sober, so you can see my current problem,” Greg shrugged it off, nodding his thanks when their water was brought over, and sipping on his water so he could have something else in his stomach besides alcohol.

          “Maybe you did in another life,” Mycroft chuckled, taking a sip of his water, his cheeks heating as he felt the other’s foot brush against him under the table. 

          “You said that you lived with another, were you married?” with a small nod towards Mycroft’s hand where his ring sat, Greg set the glass back down and smiled. He could tell the ring was old, very old actually, maybe an heirloom? Mycroft hadn’t mentioned a spouse though, so maybe it was just held onto from a lost spouse. Greg couldn’t quite explain why he felt a tinge of jealousy there, but he ignored it, shoving that down deep as he wanted to steer clear of those waters, refusing to do the same thing his wife had done to him. “What was it like, when you were there?” 

          “I have been married… but I lost him. It’s been some time, but I still wear the ring he gave me on my left hand to remind me that even though he was gone then, I would always have him with me…” There was a solemn look on the others face as he told him about his lost spouse, maybe it wasn’t as long ago as Mycroft made it seem. “Heidelberg? Well it was a beautiful town, gorgeous summers and the architecture, it was your…. It was  _ his  _ favourite there. Mine were the people, all very friendly, family based and the food was absolutely sublime.” Gregory frowned and looked to the other when he heard the slip, wondering if he had heard correctly and about to ask the other when the moment took a different turn and Mycroft reached out and covered his hand with his own. “Gregory, you are kind, caring and I can tell you right now that you deserve far better than someone who does not stay faithful to you. It may not be my place to say, so stop me if I step on any toes, but if you need help with any of this, talking with her, filing papers, anything it may be, please do not hesitate to ask.” 

          Greg felt his cheeks burn when Mycroft moved to cover his hand with his own, the action aligning their rings. Perhaps it was the symbolism behind it, or that it was all that Greg had hoped for when he had married his wife, having taken his vows seriously after watching his own parents fight from the brink of their own divorce and back. His parents had mentioned in passing though, that they wouldn’t blame him if he did get a divorce, since they knew he was trying to put everything back on track. Perhaps that was the silver lining to all of this, that everyone agreed that divorce was inevitable at this point, but no one blamed him. Greg was glad when the chips were finally brought over, Greg nodding again in thanks as the waiter walked away. He tried to hide his laugh behind his hand when Mycroft moaned with the first bite he ate, taking a couple to eat at once instead of being proper like the other man always seemed to be. 

          “Need a moment My? Want me to step out and give you some privacy there?” He gave a playful nudge to the other as they both chuckled, continuing to snack on the chips in front of them. “I think I’m torn between French and German food. If I had to choose between the two… probably French. Pretty obvious I guess with a last name like Lestrade. Except for escargot, can’t get myself to eat snails for anything, not even a million quid.”

          “Both countries have delicious food, but I must admit, classic Roman dishes are my favourite. Not Italian, Roman specifically. Sometimes when she is in the mood, Anthea will do her best to recreate a dish with the ingredients available, and it is one of my favourite meals to have.” 

          “Roman food? I’m not even sure what that entails. Were you a Caesar in a past life?” Greg teased back softly, not quite as light hearted as before but still kind. Greg returned his attention to the chips between them, but did not move his hand away from the others. It was an action of comfort and nothing more, and Greg wasn’t going to allow himself to feel guilt for it, at least… not for right now, not until morning. 

          “Puntarelle, for starters, that is what I prefer on a hot day. To put it simply, they are bitter green leaves, soaked in ice water until they curl up, then tossed with lemon juice, olive oil, and anchovies.” Greg’s nose scrunched at the thought of anchovies, those salty little fish that looked at you from a can, no thanks. Mycroft seemed to enjoy it though, judging by the hum and how he was lost in bliss with his eyes closed. “Oh, but nothing can compare to abbacchio alla scottadito. That is tender lamb, seasoned with salt, pepper, thyme, tarragon, rosemary, then it would be rubbed in olive oil, or if mum was feeling particularly devious, in a special type of lard, grilled to perfection and served with lemon.” 

          Greg smiled as he listened to Mycroft describe the different recipes, trying to commit them to memory so he could try them some time at home. They certainly didn’t sound that hard, and it would be easy enough to find the basics for all of it at the local stores. Or, he could ask Anthea for the recipe once they finally met. Greg was curious to meet her too, since she sounded like some odd mixture of P.A/mother/chef/whatever was needed at the moment. Mycroft seemed to speak so highly of her as well, and he would never admit it if asked, but it made him a tad jealous that there might be something more between them.

          “Maybe one day, if we are lucky, Anthea will get in the mood once more, and can make us that delicious meal for you to try. For now though, I will enjoy this scrumptious basket of chips that you picked out specifically for me.” Greg watched as Mycroft took a few more, the ones that Greg had left specifically for him that had the most vinegar on them. “Speaking of food, what do you prefer to eat? Name anything, really, and I will have it made. Your imagination is the limits, my dear.” At the question of what he wanted for their lunch the next day, he was about to answer before Mycroft tossed out his term of endearment without meaning to. At that, his stomach lurched and all of his anxieties of what he was in denial of came flooding to the surface. Mycroft  _ liked  _ him, and Greg liked this man as well... and not just in a friendly sense. He was attracted to him, and apparently, Mycroft was interested as well. No, no, no, he couldn’t do this, he wouldn’t cheat, even if it was on a cheater. 

          “O-oh, I’m so very sorry, that was very inappropriate of me to call you that, please forgive me,” The politician stuttered, quickly removing his hand and placing them both out of view, under the table. The man obviously realised what he had said, and the effect it had on him, and judging by the pink on his cheeks, he was very embarrassed by the whole situation.

          It felt too much like it for Greg’s conscious, and he found himself sitting across from an overly nervous Mycroft, with a suddenly cold hand and a wedding band that felt like a vice grip on his finger and there was nothing he could bring himself to do about it. 

          “I um… it’s alright. Just overly friendly I guess, just a bit of a surprise.” Greg attempted to cover lamely, moving his left hand down to his lap to hide it from view. 

          “No, it wasn’t alright, this is not easy for me, and I can’t imagine it is easy for you either. You are a kind man, and fiercely loyal, and I would  _ hate  _ to be the reason you did anything uncharacteristically you, even if I do want it. I respect you enough to know that I have let my walls down too quickly, and I am putting you in an uncomfortable place. I’m sorry…” It wasn’t fair for him to get angry now about any of this, it had been an honest mistake and Mycroft had not only owned it, but apologised profusely for. 

          “Tout va bien,”  _ Everything's fine,  _ Greg said softly in French as he listened to Mycroft’s apology, not sure why it was so important to say so in that language at the moment, but something told him that it would make Mycroft listen. It seemed to have worked though, their conversation lulling until Mycroft answered him. 

          "Mon Gregory, comment je vous ai manqué,"  _ My Gregory, oh how I have missed you.  _ Greg felt his stomach flutter when Mycroft spoke, just hardly above a whisper and with a nearly native accent that put his learned one to shame. More importantly, he understood exactly what had been said, and was desperately trying to ignore it to save the rest of their evening from being any more awkward than it already was. 

          They both sat still, moving cautiously to eat the chips, just to give themselves something to do. “I don’t know what I want tomorrow. I thought you said the menu was going to be a surprise. The puntarelle sounds interesting, if you want. Still feel like I should bring something along as well.” Greg finally settled on, hating the awkwardness that had formed between them, but hating the urge to reach out and touch Mycroft and tell him that it was all okay… but It wasn’t, even if it felt like it was. He wasn’t supposed to feel this way around other people, especially not people he had just met, at least, not yet. 

          “You do not need to bring anything, and I can ask to see if Anthea would be willing to make those dishes, but I cannot promise.” 

          “Don’t worry about the lamb thing. While it sounds amazing, doesn’t exactly sound like a lunch meal. At least not the one that I would be able to return from and be functional after. I’ll probably just want to nap instead.” Greg joked softly, watching Mycroft pull out his mobile to send off a few messages, probably to his driver, or personal chef, or maybe even Anthea, who knew. 

          “At least allow me to give you a ride home, make sure you are safe.” Greg considered the offer for the ride, pausing before nodding and moving to stand. 

          “Yeah, would probably be best. I’m not drunk, but the car will be fine until I can get back to it tomorrow.” Patting down his pockets to make sure he had everything he needed, Greg took out a few notes to cover his tab. “I do still want lunch tomorrow. I won’t be drunk, so I won’t cross any lines either. I can tell you about your brother and his apparent growing list of complaints of what they are doing wrong in the center if nothing else. Apparently today, their latest and greatest crime against humanity was not allowing him to bring in a drone bee he had found out in the gardens,” Greg smiled faintly at that, not sure what to make of that man.

*****

          Mycroft quickly stood and distanced himself from the other, giving a forced smile when told about Sherlock’s bee that he was trying to bring into the rehabilitation center. Moving towards the front of the building, he was trying desperately to collect himself, and his thoughts, from what was happening now. This had never been a problem before, letting his walls down for the other and opening up, but his love, his Gregory, was  _ married _ to another, and it was proving difficult to put those walls back up around him. The car was waiting out front, the engine coming to life as he stepped through the front door and up to the curb. Holding the door open, Mycroft waited for Gregory to slip in first before following suit and sitting on the seat across from him. He had already given the address to the driver when he had messaged for the car, so when the door closed, the car pulled away, the silence between them deafening. 

          Fingers fidgeting with the handle of his brolly, Mycroft kept his gaze out the window, focusing on anything but the other man. So far, he had managed to make the Gregory uncomfortable, apologised for being too friendly, and now there was a painfully awkward silence between them. Short of completely ruining it by telling the man he was in love with him and had been for ages, this evening was spoiled. He was doing a bang up job of ignoring the other, but it was only worse when he felt the press of Gregory’s shoe on his own. It was soft enough, but he knew it wasn’t an accident. 

          “I had a dream about your club last night… all dark wood and leather with bookshelves nearly surrounding the room, the air thick with smoke and museum paintings were hung up between the shelves.” Gregory broke the silence, his voice soft, but loud enough to pull Mycroft’s attention to him as it broke through the air. “There were these dramatic windows that brought the light in… and… I was there with you, and we were laughing about something a man name John had done with Sherlock, I guess they were trying to come into the club to meet you? It felt a bit like Victorian age maybe? I’m not sure of the time period, but close to that... or something…” He trailed off. That had been his wing… everything he described right down to the smoke in the air. John and Sherlock had tried to bust in, and security had stopped them. It was something about an experiment they were doing, and of course, it was a laugh to watch them both struggle as they were escorted out. That was the last year Sherlock had seen John, and the last he had tried to look for him. 

         “You always did look handsome in a suit, a proper one, like we used to wear,” Mycroft muttered quietly to himself, his focus on the memory, a slight smile pulling at his lips. Chuckling, he remembered how happy Sherlock used to be, and the changes he had seen in the other when John was in the picture. “If only John were here now, maybe we wouldn’t have to send Sherlock to rehab, it’s the only reason he’s on drugs, to try and forget,” His voice was louder this time, intending for the other to hear. It was hard to think about, the night Sherlock lost John. The shock took his brother and swallowed him whole. “He hasn’t been the same since…” Sherlock was absolutely miserable, and even though John would come back, Sherlock promised he would never go and find him again. 

          Before Mycroft could stop him, Gregory had leaned in and knocked on the partition, asking the driver to pull to the side of the road before settling back in his seat. Mycroft looked to him, brows furrowed in confusion, his heart starting to pound in his ears, nervous as to why the other had stopped the car.

          “My, tell me what is going on. Please. Why do I know you when I don’t? Why do I remember these memories that I couldn’t possibly have because they happened hundreds of years ago?  You know the answer, you have to. I just… I feel like I have amnesia or something, and there keeps coming to me in sparks, but I can’t hold onto them for very long…” Mycroft stalled, his hands fidgeting with the brolly Gregory had bought him years ago, his eyes going anywhere but to the other. “Would you at least look at me before I go?” 

          How was he supposed to explain this? Anyone who heard the truth would think him an utter lunatic and have him locked up immediately. A knot formed in his throat and his heart was roaring in his ears as he finally forced himself to look into those chocolate eyes. It was silent, except for the roar in his ears, and he wasn’t sure where to start, but after a few moments he sighed and turned to knock on the partition, watching as the window rolled down. 

         “Would you please take us to my office?” The driver nodded and rolled the window back up, Mycroft sighing and turning to face the other again. Maybe this would work, after all these years, all the different times he had been with Gregory, he had never done something like this, but maybe… maybe this was all it would take to push it over the edge and have him stay. “I don’t have words to properly answer your question but I can show you.” As the streets passed, it was only a few minutes before they arrived at the office, the car stopping and Mycroft taking a deep breath before he opened the door and exited the car, waiting for the other to follow. It was a silent walk towards his office, the halls dark as everyone had already gone home. Taking out his keys, Mycroft quickly unlocked the door and stepped in, moving to turn on the lights so they could see. Without words, Mycroft went to the bookshelf and pulled out the photo album with all of their portraits, holding it close to him as he turned to face the other. Opening his mouth to speak, Mycroft paused and let out a sigh, knowing that words were not the best right now. Instead, he handed him the book, and moved to take a seat in his chair, preparing himself for the questions that would come. Gregory took the album with care, looking to the other with questions, but slowly opening the cover and turning the pages every so often, taking his time on each page. His face was a mixture of expressions, Mycroft could practically hear the man think as he slowly made his way through the album. 

          “ These…. are these all… no they can’t be… can they? They sort of look like me, or some version of me? That's you, for sure, but... I don't understand. That’s impossible. Isn't it?" Gregory frowned as he flipped through the pages, reaching the back and making his way slowly to the front again, studying each of them. "That's why you keep calling me Gregory. How is this possible?" 

          "They are all pictures of you and I." Mycroft mumbled, his voice shaky as he spoke through the hand that was covering his mouth. Moving, he sat forward in his chair and leaned on the desk in front of him, clasping his hands together in a steeple as he took a deep breath. "Some things change, like the colour of your hair, or your last name, but there are a few things that never change." Swallowing hard, he spoke slowly and softly, thinking back over the years and how he could explain this best. "Your smile, for instance. It's always... that damn crooked smile, it warms up my heart and..." He paused, his lips tugged into a fond grin. "And your eyes, always those deep, caring, bright chocolate eyes, that I could get lost in for ages," When Gregory asked him about his name, Mycroft looked up, catching his gaze and nodding. "Yes, that’s other thing. You are always Gregory. You are always that sweet, kind, caring, bright person that I met all those centuries ago, with a laugh that fills the room and a voice that’s soft and patient." He stood and walked to the other's side, flipping to the very first page. "We met first in Rome, 37 B.C.E, and then we moved to Egypt together at the height of the Roman Egyptian relations. The second was back in Rome, until the fall of the empire. I then moved to Venice and found you again, and eventually we moved to Paris, where I stayed for a while. We’ve lived all over really, back to Rome, Nice, London, Berlin, Munich, Heidelberg, Florence, Venice, Oia, Monteriggioni, Coventry, Abisko… all over." As Mycroft named the cities and time periods, he moved throughout the album, each showing him as he was, and a different version of Gregory every time. "I've been alive for centuries, and every time you... well... I lose you. It's only a matter of years before you come back though, in some form, and I have to bring you back to me all over again. I've done this eleven times now, and I'm still trying..." Mycroft sighed, the knot in his throat getting thicker. "The only way to have you stay, and not lose you, is if you remember, everything. Not just bits and pieces, but that hasn't happened yet..." Looking up and away from the album, he caught those chocolate eyes, and waited, knowing this was a lot to take in. After some time, the other spoke, his voice soft. 

          Greg was quiet, obviously taking all of the information in, as it was more than anyone could be expected to handle. His hands were shaky as he held the album, his eyes fixed on the pictures, and his fingers hovering over the faces, his eyes a sea of confusion and contemplation, an inner battle that was waging war in his mind. 

          "But I do remember some things. That has to count, right?"

          "I wish I could say it did count for something, but you always do remember little bits here and there, but nothing even close to what would be needed for you to stay. Anthea said when Ryan finally remembered... it was like a switch had finally been turned on, that all the memories were clear, and something about him looked different, knowing  _ that _ it was that face she would see every day for the rest of their lives together. I’m sorry to put this all on you like this, it is a lot to take in,"

          "I didn't know. I... I'm sorry." Gregory offered him, trying to muster something up to console him. "That's why you said I wouldn't be alone if I left her. My wife. It's just... when it's good it's amazing, but then something always cocks it up and it ends up like we are now. Only this time, I'm usually passed out drunk at home instead of, well..." Gregory waved at the room around them before stepping forward and setting the book carefully down on the side table. "I should go home. I don't even know where to begin with all of this but I need to get some sleep before work tomorrow. You probably do, too. I'm not running away, though. I still want lunch with you tomorrow. If you're willing. If it's too painful I understand."

          Picking up the album, Mycroft traced a finger over their faces before closing the cover and setting the book back on the shelf with care. He was quiet as he moved towards the door, waiting for Gregory to exit and looking back when the man just stopped. "I would like that," Even though those words came out, it was too hard for him to smile and pretend like everything was just fine and nothing strained between them.    
  
          Closing the door behind them, he locked up the office and then the front door of the building, sliding in the car after Gregory. The ride back to the man's home seemed too quick, his heart aching as the other got out and looked back into the car. 

  
         "Good night Gregory, I shall see you tomorrow for lunch." Mycroft watched the other nod and push off, shutting the door and walking slowly up to his home. He wouldn't sleep tonight, that was for certain, he would be up all night analysing everything that had just happened, and the possible outcomes, and what might come next. He didn’t even want to imagine how the conversation would go tomorrow once the other had a chance to mull things over. When Gregory had disappeared inside, the car pulled away and headed home, his heart growing heavier and heavier as they drove away. 


	5. IV

 

          Greg’s alarm found him sleeping on the couch, the telly turned low, a soft hum giving the illusion of not being so alone. It appeared it would be a normal day in London really, partly cloudy, cool, moderate chance of rain. It was one more pattern that Greg found himself loathing. He wanted out, to call up Mycroft and ask for a place they had never been to before, and book a flight there immediately. To say ‘fuck it’ to this path he was on now, leave with the other and at least make this round worth something. In the rush of the idea, Greg pulled his wedding ring off, wanting to throw it to the other side of the room, but the indent on his finger and tan line left on his skin, was almost worse than the band itself. He couldn’t just rush it… There was a picture of him and his wife, looking so happy on the mantel. She was still in love with him and not with the title of being married to a cop. Slowly sliding his ring back on, Greg flipped off the news and went about his morning pattern: coffee, shower, dress, breakfast, teeth, coat, car, work. 

> **Was there coffee in Rome? GL**

         Greg tapped out the message as he stood outside of a scene, London very much not behaving herself this morning. He clung to his paper cup, hoping to warm his hands before glaring up at the sky, hoping the rain would hold out just long enough to get the evidence they needed. They would have to work quickly though, as it was starting to sprinkle already. 

> _ No, coffee was discovered at the time, in Ethiopia, but they mostly used it as medicinal or magical substances. The first time someone was known to have drank the beverage was the Monks in Yemen in the 1400’s. Why do you ask? –M _

         “Hey, Boss!” Donovan called from the side, drawing him out of his thoughts as he tucked his mobile away and jogged over to where she was standing. It took Greg a bit to respond to Mycroft’s message, but he did his best not to feel guilty about it since he was working. Their scene was rather spread out, but in a easy way to follow, his team was buzzing in a low level of excitement, knowing that they would have their person by the end of their shift.

> **Damn. Maybe that’s why they fell. I’m pretty sure if you were to test my blood, you’d find coffee in place of water. Maybe that’s why I don’t remember anything before the Italian renaissance. GL**

         Greg joked with a soft laugh, smiling down at his phone as he sent off another message. Of course, his smile and laugh earned him a curious look from Donovan, who was now eyeing him from the sideline. 

         “What are you up to?” She walked over, trying to peer over his screen to catch a glimpse of what was causing the odd behaviour. 

         “Making a joke about the amount of coffee I drink with someone,” Greg covered, trying to stay as vague as possible. Pocketing his phone, Greg tried to play it off as nothing, but he could still feel Donovan looking to him with a smug smile. “What?” 

         “Is this the same someone you were texting with all through your lunch yesterday?” Sally smiled as she looked to him, leaning in to nudge him with her elbow. 

         “Go do your job,” Greg moaned, which only got her laughing as she walked away, leaving her boss to pull himself back together as he looked around the scene. Giving a few orders, Greg went back to his mobile, now that his team had instructions and Sally was out of eyesight.  

> **At a scene, by the way. We’re doing pretty well on it so far, so it shouldn’t affect lunch. How are you by the way? Get any sleep last night? GL**

         Greg tapped out the message as he carefully made his way to the corner, looking around the immediate area before getting an idea to check the buildings, grinning to himself when he saw a CCTV camera off to the side, looking in their direction. He gave it a quick wave just for the hell of it, not even sure that Mycroft would see the footage.  

> **Also, Mr. Minor Government, what’s your access to CCTV cameras? It’s for the case, of course. I won’t just be making faces at you. GL**
> 
> _ As well as can be expected, I didn’t sleep at all, instead I read by the fire through the night. One of my favourite novels I happened to commandeer from the Library of Alexandria before it was burned. –M _
> 
> _ The files will be awaiting you on your desk when you return from the scene. Everything you need on a flash drive. –M _

         Greg was surprised by Mycroft’s answer, not that he thought the man would have slept like a baby the night before, but having a book from Alexandria. How it could still be functional and not dust by now, blew his mind. Though, it had probably been privately reprinted a few times by now. His surprise only grew when Mycroft assured him that he would have the footage needed at his desk, and Greg had to cycle through a few different responses before getting to one that wasn’t so awkwardly over the top, thanking him for the help. 

> **Thank you, really. At least let me bring over a little cake or something to show my gratitude. I’ll probably end up sending you a formal request for footage later, so I have all my bases covered. We should have it in the bag just with physical evidence from the scene, but I want to make sure there’s nothing gets thrown out. GL**
> 
> _ If you wish to bring something, I will not stop you. I can’t promise I will partake in the sweets though. but, if you want some, please feel free to bring some. –M _
> 
> _ As for the formal request, send that when you can. I do not mind helping you ‘cover your bases’ by signing off on something I have already done. -M _

         Greg shook his head at Mycroft’s refusal for desert, deciding that he would at least grab a few biscuits for them, so they could share, instead of having himself eating desert alone. Looking around the scene and checking the time, Greg turned it over to Sally, explaining that he needed to get back to the office for his meetings. He wanted to make sure everything finished on time for his lunch with Mycroft, rather than having to stay late with his superiors when they ran over schedule. They would be a bit rushed to keep everyone on topic, but they were used to having to work around those who were called away for work. Luckily that was how it went,  productive, but blessedly fast, and by noon he was back at his desk, flash drive safely tucked away in a drawer to keep from losing it while he wrote up his notes from earlier. All he had to do was finished these last forms and he could head out. 

> **Could you send me the address for the club? I think I know the building, but I’m not quite sure… GL**
> 
> _ 1 Kensington Ct. London W8 5DL. When you walk in, Anthea will be waiting to show you back to my wing. See you soon. –M _

          Looking up the address, he wasn’t sure why he was surprised by the fact that it was across the street from the palace. Giving himself some time to pop by the bakery and picking out a chocolate chip for himself and a toffee hazelnut for Mycroft, Greg made his way to the tube so he wouldn’t have to worry about parking. The walking also gave him a chance to work out some of his nerves. After the mess from last night, he wanted this to work out, even if that meant they were just friends for now. Greg didn’t want to completely lose Mycroft from his life. Not to mention, he could tell from a few of the reports he had received on Sherlock, he was going to need all the help he could get with that man. Sighing, Greg looked down at his attire, frowning at the only suit he kept on standby for press meetings, and hoped it was formal enough. He tried to take Mycroft’s assurances that there was nothing for him to be worried about as he made his way to the club, but he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling he had. 

          Stepping into the main hall, Greg was stunned by the sight, not what he had remembered at all. It was silent, painfully so, only the rustling of newspapers, or the soft clinking of China as the other members sipped at their tea. The silence was punctured with the click of a woman’s heels, his attention turning to the woman approaching him. 

          “Anthea,” He smiled and greeted her, just above a whisper. He immediately recognised her and  pulled her into a good natured hug, much to her obvious surprise. “I… sorry. I remember you. You’re always watching over My… I mean Mycroft. It’s brighter than I remember it in here,” Greg continued to speak in a stage whisper as they made their way towards the wing, regretting that he didn’t think to get a third biscuit for her. He would just leave the two for them and grab one on his way back instead, the walk would be easy enough.

*****

          “Thank you, that will be all,” Anthea dismissed the sous chef with a nod and a smile, her attention now turned to the man walking through the door. Well, Mycroft wasn’t lying, the man was rather handsome, his silver hair and tanned skin, and of course that smile. 

          “Gregory,” She smiled back, surprised as he pulled her into a hug, freezing at first, her eyes wide, but then wrapping her arms around him and enjoying the embrace. “Don’t worry, I understand. Mycroft told me everything,” She chuckled, standing back and clasping her hands together. The other was remembering far more than normal, even noting the changes in the club. “Yes, well time have changed and this place was due for a renovation. Follow me?” She questioned, starting to walk down the hall and to the right, back towards Mycroft’s private wing. As a founder of this club, he had his own wing, but that information wasn’t something everyone needed to know. 

          Mycroft was sitting at his table, going over a few last minute documents,thin wire reading glasses sitting on the edge of his nose. He only looked up when he heard the door open, seeing Anthea as she lead Gregory into the room, and watching as he took it all in. 

          “Good afternoon Gregory, welcome.” He smiled, putting the papers back into the folder and standing to walk over to them. Handing the file off to Anthea, he placed a hand on her lower back, leaning in to speak with her in a hushed tone. “Just leave these on my desk, dear? I will continue with them later.” Giving a small squeeze as she left, his hand fell back to his side. Just as he was about to speak, he was caught off guard when a sudden eruption of laughter came from the other, his brow furrowing as he wasn’t sure what exactly was so funny. 

          “Sorry! Sorry… sorry. Just the men in there. Everything else has been updated to match the times, but them. I can’t decide if it’s because they’re like you, or just overlooked decorations, or robots.”Mycroft furrowed his brow at the statement, not sure if that had been meant as a compliment or how he should take it. “My, relax.” Gregory chided him as he continued to give the other a confused and startled look. “Thanks, by the way, for the file. We already have an arrest warrant out for our man, so I have to say, it’s not a terrible day’s work. I also brought two biscuits as well, even though you said you wouldn’t eat any. There’s a toffee for you and chocolate chip for Anthea. I figured one won’t ruin the day,” Gregory chuckled, handing over a brown paper sack.

           “That was very kind of you Gregory. We shall save these for later. Wouldn’t want to spoil our meal, which will be in shortly, if you would like to take a seat,” He was trying to bring an air of normality between them, attempting to cover the awkwardness from the night before. Moving around the end of the table, Mycroft pulled out a chair and waited for Gregory sat before taking his own. Looking up as the staff entered, Mycroft smiled as their first dish was brought out, set between them and plated. “This meal was planned around your favourite dishes from Paris. For starters, we have an herbed goat cheese and tomato tart. It’s made with fresh tomatoes grown here in our garden, a thin layer of Dijon mustard,” He paused, getting a smug smirk and a laugh from the other, “Don’t you start with me Gregory,” He warned, giving the other a small smile back. “With fresh herbs. We also have a white wine to accompany lunch.  Bon appétit,” Mycroft waited, watching Gregory take the first bite and smiling when he heard a hum of appreciation. “If you like this, just wait, it will only get better.”

           “Yeah, I can see why I liked that,” Gregory agreed, sitting back in his chair. He had to slow himself down and hold back from finishing the tart in three bites it was so good. They ate in silence, just enjoying the good, and they finished just as the staff was bringing out their main course.

           “This is wine-poached Salmon with black truffles. The sauce is a creamy, earthy, truffle sauce that accents the salmon ever so nicely, with hints of brandy, arrowroot, white wine, heavy cream and dill.” Secretly, this meal had been one of his favourites as well, the Salmon tasting just downright sinful with that truffle sauce. As he took a few bites, Mycroft wiped his mouth politely before smiling to the other. “I hope everything is to your liking?” The question was more of a nicety, seeing as he could already see the other was practically making a show of how much he was enjoying the meal, and it went without words that he was savouring every bite. 

           “I’d say so, yeah. It’s fantastic. Definitely wish I could make these at home, but I’m pretty sure I couldn’t afford half of the ingredients, or pull it off in my fidgety stove.” Greg let out a chuckle, taking another large bite and smiling as he chewed. 

           “You are always welcome to take some of this home. My chefs always prepare extra just in case. I will have it for you by time you leave.” Mycroft smiled in approval, taking another bite of the salmon and humming as well. 

           “How has your day been? If you’re allowed to talk about it.” Mycroft hated small talk, but at the moment, it was better than addressing the elephant in the room and possibly spoiling a lovely meal. 

           “Busy, of course. There have been mountains of paperwork and red tape I’ve had to work through, but I’m sure you are more than familiar with that yourself. It’s sounds, from what I have heard, that you are having a rather successful day yourself?” Mycroft took a couple more bites before setting down his fork, feeling rather stuffed. At the prompt of Mycroft asking about his day, the detective lit up and dove straight into describing the case and the work they had done, tracking each step and what they had to do. He also described how everything had painted a picture of what had happened, it was clear he loved his work. Gregory was trying to make an awkward situation better, by staying away from sensitive subjects, but the politicians mind would not stay away from such thoughts, as hard as he tried, and he was having difficulties paying attention. His heart felt heavy and his thoughts getting the better of him. His ears perked when he heard his name, pulling himself out of a daze and looking to the other, realising he had been asked a question. 

           “My apologies Gregory, I… well…” Great, now the other knew he hadn’t been paying attention and didn’t hear what he had been asked, let alone the subject they were talking about. 

           “Maybe talking about other people’s deaths isn’t the best lunch topic,” the other trailed off softly, shifting in his chair as he looked around the room, obviously searching for another topic to speak about. “Sherlock’s been doing well. Got an update today that he’s been deducing others in rehab with him, so he hasn’t exactly made any friends, but he’s been following all the steps they’ve asked him to do. Been a nightmare to get him to put on some weight though.” It was good to hear that the other was behaving, and the eating bit came as no surprise to the politician. “They’re saying he can probably be released in another week or so with the progress he’s made, and with the plan we have for him once he’s out. We just have to find somewhere for him to stay, unless he already has a place? I’d offer my couch, but pretty sure that wouldn’t fly well for…” His voice trailed off, Mycroft knowing exactly who he was alluding to. 

            “I have a place I would like him to stay, but I know he would refuse it if he knew it were my idea. I think for the first bit after leaving rehabilitation, we might just try and keep him clean and see how he does with cold cases,” Mycroft paused for a moment, not sure if he should speak of his brother’s mate or not. No, Gregory was his partner, married to someone or not, and he was someone he shouldn’t keep secrets from. “Anthea and I found John, he’s in Afghanistan. The problem is, Sherlock will not take nicely to having us reintroduce him.” Mycroft pressed his lips into a thin line, having tried to hash this problem out with Anthea a million different times, but never finding the perfect way to have them meet up. “That dream you had, that was the last year Sherlock and John were together. Until then, the loss was as bearable as can be, but never too much for him to handle. He was always very practical about it, saying that it would only be a short time before he would see him again. That particular time though… it was very painful the way he lost John, and it consumed him. He’s never come back from that.” Mycroft paused, looking back up to the other. “Every year that one goes without finding their… partner, the chances of finding them in another form gets less and less likely. Sherlock hasn’t looked since, but Anthea and I have always managed to find him.” 

            Maybe telling this to Gregory and having a fresh perspective on the situation, he might be able to suggest a solution that actually had a shot. So far, Gregory had already managed to keep Sherlock in rehabilitation, have him come clean, and would soon be working with him on cases. Gregory had a far better track record in this first few weeks, than Mycroft and Anthea had combined. 

           “How do you find one another? Your partners… that is... Is it luck, or is there a pull towards a certain place or thing? If John’s in London, then maybe it’s just keeping Sherlock around until he returns from deployment,” Gregory shrugged, not realising that Mycroft hadn’t said anything about John working as a soldier. That was what he always was as far as Greg could tell from his gut, and so there was really no reason to assume otherwise. “I mean… really, no matter how hard we try, London doesn’t behave herself very well, so there’s always going to be cases for Sherlock to solve and keep him distracted. It’ll just be getting them to meet that will be the tricky part, and hopefully it won’t involve drugs.” 

            “To be honest, Gregory, I haven’t the faintest how we find each other again. I know it seems like I may have the answers to these questions, but I do not in this matter. Some believe it is a pull, subconscious or not, that makes them move to other places in the world to find their partner, other think it is blind chance.” Mycroft paused for a moment, his brow furrowing. “As for myself, I’m not sure what to believe, I am just relieved every time I am able to find you. I will admit though, this is the latest I have ever found you, normally you are in your late twenties to early thirties. Do not get me wrong though, and I really do not want to make you uncomfortable, but this version of you now,” He paused, a lump forming in his throat and his cheeks heating as he thought about his next words. “Well, let’s put it simply that you are very handsome, a silver fox if I may.” Looking down, Mycroft was almost embarrassed to admit that to the other, as it seemed a tad odd to have a favourite ‘version’ of your partner. A deep blush spread across the other’s face, his eyes opening a tad wider as he looked up in shock. 

          “Wait, really? I think it makes me look old,” Gregory complained softly, his mouth left open as he stared at him. Chuckling softly, Mycroft smiled and sat back in his chair as the staff came to take away their dishes, bringing a bag out for the other with the leftovers. 

          “Most definitely Gregory. If I can be very frank, I do hope this will be our last go at this, not just because it would hurt to lose you again, but to be with you as you are.” He trailed off, closing his eyes and giving a small, appreciative hum. “I would never want to see you any other way. The silver really suits you, makes you appear refined and wise. As far as you seeming old, you must realise I have been alive for centuries. Age, to me, is irrelevant.” Mycroft chuckled, taking a sip of his wine. There was a silence sinking in, causing him to look to the other and notice the discomfort he had caused him with that last comment. It was even more painfully obvious when the other switched topics, not lingering or responding at all to his statement. 

           “Once I hear more about when they’ll be releasing Sherlock, we can sort out our next steps. I’m sure we’ll still have plenty of things to have lunch over. Two weeks, if not earlier?” Unfortunately it was that time, and Mycroft wasn’t sure if he was grateful because it was nearing 2 o’clock, or if his comment had made him too uncomfortable to stay and he wanted the silence and unease to end. Standing, he walked with the other towards the front door to see him off, his gaze facing down as they made their way to the lobby. 

           “Of course, Anthea will be more than happy to schedule another date, whatever works best for the both of us. I can have her contact you when you get back to your office to compare calendars? I don’t know what I would do without her, she keeps me on track and my head in place most days,” It was true, she was not only his assistant, best friend and companion throughout the years, but she was his support system, the one person he relied on day in and day out. If it weren’t for her, he might have lost Gregory  _ and  _ Sherlock a long time ago. 

           “Well, I look forward to seeing you both again. I wish I could offer to host next time, but I don’t have anything that could remotely come close to this.” The smile he had given the other quickly faded when he was out of sight. The walk back to his office was silent, except for the clicking of Anthea’s shoes on the marble floor, knowing she could see that something was clearly wrong. 

           “I don’t know if I can do this Anthea, I really don’t.” There was strain in his voice as he moved to his desk, waiting till she shut the door behind him. “I know you said that things are… failing between him and his wife, but he has no intention of leaving her just yet, and as much as I want him back, I don’t expect him to leave her just like that. It is a lot to ask someone, especially after only knowing the truth for a couple weeks now. He has some memories, but nothing to bring him back…” Mycroft paused again, moving to cover his face with his hands as he closed his eyes and leaned over, trying to calm his breathing. “I can’t keep pretending that everything is perfect between us, trying to hold back how I feel, or to think of him with that wretched woman. I understand he is a kind man, fiercely loyal and even though she has broken his heart at every turn, he doesn’t seem ready to let go.” His voice cracked as he thought about the other, how his comments today had made him uncomfortable, and whether or not it would be better to keep their relationship to a minimum for the time being. 

           “What if I have a chat with him?” She offered, walking up beside him and placing her hands on his shoulders, pressing her cheek to his as she held him close. “If need be, we can arrange that your relationship with him is strictly profession, until he is free to have something otherwise? I know it’s not the most ideal, but he cannot expect you to act as if nothing is wrong, or that this doesn’t hurt you. If he is still the same man you know and love, he will understand.” Sighing, Mycroft reached up and placed a hand over top of hers, giving her a weak smile as he opened his eyes, the grey colour now stormy. He wanted to speak, to thank her, but he knew if he did, he would lose the fight over his control, so instead he just nodded. Standing, Anthea placed a gentle kiss on his temple, giving his shoulders a small squeeze before walking out. 


	6. V

               After a few weeks when their next dinner was about to transpire, Anthea decided that instead of sending a reminder to the inspector, she would take a quick trip down to the Yard to have that chat. Sherlock had been released for about a week now, and so far, there had been nothing but good news concerning his progress, surprisingly he had taken the flat Mycroft had chosen, after Gregory convinced him to do so. Walking through the halls and passing through security, Anthea made her way to the third floor, already prepared to face Sergeant Donovan, having been warned about her already. With a smug smirk, she spotted the woman before she entered, watching as she moved to stand and block her path. Anthea gave her a daring glare, her pace quick as she slipped past the other and turned to face the woman before she could block the way.

                “Try that again, Donovan, and it will be the last time you do anything of the sort. I was already informed of how you treated Mr. Holmes, so I will let you in on a secret. He is far more polite than I am,” Her tone was harsh and venomous, but quiet as well. Donovan only took a few seconds to contemplate the threat before taking a step back, a scowl still on her features. She wasn’t happy, but she did realise when it wasn’t worth the fight. Raising her brow and giving a proud grin, Anthea turned on her feet and made her way straight to Gregory’s office, letting herself in, and taking a seat after shutting the door.

                “Good afternoon Gregory. I am here to talk, and I have already checked your schedule to make sure we will not be bothered for the next half an hour.” The man across from her looked up curiously, as she made herself at home, quickly putting his files away.

                “I didn’t even meet the Queen and I’m already getting chucked into the gardens. I’m telling Mycroft next time that I was right.” He joked, obviously trying to lighten the mood, though she just continued to watch him. “Okay then. Bad, that. Noted. What’s wrong? Mycroft… is he alright?”

                “I am sure you are aware that I am Mycroft’s right hand, but I am not only his assistant, but his true friend. Now, I could give you the speech of ‘break his heart and you will feel such pain you wouldn’t understand,’ but I am tired of having that talk with you, seeing as we have spoken on the subject eleven different times.” Sitting forward, Anthea brushed off her skirt and cleared her throat, catching Gregory’s gaze and holding it, her expression stern. “He is far too involved with you for his own good at the moment, and as this is new territory, what with you being married… if you call that a marriage,” She was sparing no feelings today. Anthea loved Gregory, and although she cared for him, and he could be sweet, caring and kind, Mycroft came first. “Your relationship with Mycroft is to be strictly business, concerning Sherlock only from here on out. Until you have decided to leave that horrible, cheating wife of yours, the contact will be minimal. I understand this cannot be easy for you, as it is a lot to take in, but you have to imagine how much harder and more devastating things are for him. Mycroft has been alive since the Roman rule, has seen you die eleven times, and had to pick himself up after every time and find you again, knowing full well he would lose you again. He is a very strong, very powerful man, but his heart he keeps guarded, save for you and I. I will not hurt him, ever. You may not want to hurt him, but you will and are in this current situation. To keep things fair for both parties, business only. Do I make myself clear?”

                The other was silent for a long time after she had finished, most likely sorting through what she had just said and how to respond.

                “I won’t even try to say that I understand, because I don’t. I can try to imagine though. I do care, I do. A lot more than I should, given everything…” Gregory started slowly, dragging a hand over his face and neck. “I don’t know what else to do. I mean, I do… I get it, please don’t…” He said quickly, raising his hand when it was obvious that Anthea was about to give another not-so-gentle reminder of what he could do in order to bail himself out of his marriage. “Sherlock’s been making little jabs too. I don’t need you doing it now. I know. Trust me.” Greg sighed, staring at the space between them for another long moment. “You haven’t talked to Mycroft about this, or you wouldn’t be here. Let me have this lunch, please. I’m trying, I am. My… he makes me brave enough to start fighting against her. You have to try and understand it from my side. Having all these memories in my head, not sure what is real or just a dream, and finding out that I have lead past lives with this man, who came to me at a time when my marriage was failing and is waiting for me with open arms…. It’s a lot to take in. I am more aware of my mortality than I have ever been due to this, and you have to understand how much that hurts me too. My at least knows he’ll have a chance to find me again. I didn’t until it was explained to me. Just… let me have today, yeah? Then I’ll leave him alone if that’s what’s best.” At those words, Anthea stood, her lips pressed into a thin line as she leaned further over the desk.

                “I _have_ spoken with Mycroft, and that is exactly why I am here. The last lunch you had, left him practically in tears. He knew what hurt he was inflicting on you, and could not deal with the pain and guilt that came with that.” She was only a few inches from his face, trying to hold back when the other mentioned Mycroft would have other chances. “Do not pretend to know the pain we go through, losing the one we love over and over again. Every time you die, a part of him dies with you, a part that never comes back. Mycroft will never admit it, but having been with him since the beginning, he is nothing compared to what he was. I’m certain that none of those pieces will come back until you stay.” She glared, the rage building within, making her want to yell, but keeping her voice down. “Lunch will still be on today, but if you mention _anything_ I have said, I will be back.” With that, she stood and straightened her outfit, giving him a curt nod before walking out the door, heading towards the waiting car.

*****

                Greg didn’t move from where he was sitting until he was almost late, toying with his ring repeatedly until he finally slipped it off and tucked it into his wallet where he wouldn’t have to worry about Mycroft seeing it for now. How exactly Anthea expected him to keep silent about what she had said when Mycroft was able to read him so well, Greg wasn’t sure. Technically, it wouldn’t be him saying something if the other managed to guess, but he wasn’t sure Anthea would care either way. There was a tight lump in the back of his throat as he got closer to the club to meet his ‘mate’, as Sherlock liked to call him. Partner felt better, but he didn’t have a clue about the technicalities behind someone being immortal, since biologically speaking, that shouldn’t even be possible. Clearing his throat a few times in a failed attempt to push away the mix of emotions that were threatening to overtake him at the possibility of losing Mycroft, Greg put on his best mask as he made his way to the private wing. Letting himself in quietly, he flashed a weak smile to the other sitting at the table as he closed the door.

                “Hey, My…” Greg’s voice was soft as he looked to the other, his stack of paperwork lining the table.

                “My goodness, I do apologise, I didn’t even realise it was already this late,” Mycroft shuffled the papers together and placed them back in their envelope, handing them off to a member of his team and thanking him in a hushed tone before walking over in his direction. “Gregory, goo afternoon. I have heard great things concerning Sherlock… that he’s managed to stay clean, is living in the flat I recommended, and working well with you on cases. I have made sure to put in place the necessary protocols so that neither of you will be in trouble should upper management look your way, I hope that will help.” He must have noticed something was off, because the other man’s brow furrowed and his eyes were tracing over him, that familiar look he gave when he was reading someone like an open book. “Keeping secrets will never work, Gregory. What is troubling you?” Mycroft stopped just a few feet shy of him, his eyes still looking him over as he tried to hold himself together.

                Greg laughed an odd sob when it was mentioned that he shouldn’t try to keep secrets from him, torn between trying to keep the man in front of him happy, or enduring Anthea’s wrath. He was sure there wouldn’t even be a garden to contain whatever was left of him after she was done with him. “We’re a mess, aren’t we?” He asked with another broken laugh, looking up at the ceiling and blinking quickly to try and ward off the tears he didn’t want falling down his cheeks. “Also, Anthea is terrifying when she’s angry, and a bitch, but in a good way? I just… Christ, My, I can’t… I don’t…” Greg repeatedly tried to figure out what he wanted to say and kept coming up with nothing each time, finally looking back at Mycroft to see the pain he was desperately trying to protect him from. He lost it when Mycroft stepped forward and reached out, but dropped his hands before he could touch him, knowing exactly why there was hesitation.

                “Gregory, what are you on about? Has Anthea said something to you?”

                “Fuck, now she’s going to kill me, isn’t she? Just… what’s… what’s the point when we know it’s going to fail? For me to die and to hurt you even more when I know I don’t remember enough to save you? I feel like that damned blue fish in that film that can’t remember anything, and I don’t want to lose you even though I’m going to, because I’m not man enough to just tell Caroline that I want to leave her.” Greg finally said, everything tumbling out at once, and felling like a child the way his tears were streaming down his face. “I’m sorry, My. I’m so, so sorry. I shouldn’t have come. I’m just too damned selfish and wanted to see you one last time before… I don’t even know.” Mycroft had now fully moved in, pulling him in close and wrapping his arms around him, those fingers running through his hair. Greg felt ridiculous as he sobbed into Mycroft’s chest, wrapping his arms around the man’s waist and trying not to think about how the suit he was most likely ruining, cost more than what he made in a single paycheck.

                “Gregory, Gregory, please, hush,” the other whispered in a soft tone, trying to console him. “Anthea will do nothing of the sort, she says a lot, but she knew if she did anything to you, that it would only hurt me more,” Mycroft paused, rocking them back and forth. “Listen,” Greg finally gained some control over himself and allowed Mycroft to push away, just ever so slightly, to hold him back so they could talk face to face. “It’s worth it to me, every time. Even if we do fail, and I have to wait for you to come back home, I know that at least I got to spend a few more years with you than I had before. I know it isn’t easy to leave your wife, and I’m not asking for an overnight change, because that would be very rude to ask. It’s hard for me to see you like this though, knowing you are taken, even if it’s only for the time being. There is nothing I want more than to have you with me, but I can wait. I have waited for you for thousands of years, and a few more won’t kill me, literally or figuratively,”

                Greg did what he could to hold the man’s gaze and listen to him, nodding faintly when he was assured that he didn’t need to force this change just to make him happy. At least they both knew, that had to count for something, somewhere, and the fact that Mycroft had called him love was not lost on the detective either. To hear someone call him that again and mean it, left his heart soaring and hoping that maybe, just maybe, they could somehow make this work. Maybe if they tried hard enough this time, it would somehow work.

                “As long as you promise me, that you will not leave, I promise I can wait. Does that seem fair?”

                “Yeah, I can do that,” Greg agreed softly, leaning into the gentle touch as he slowly dropped his hands from around Mycroft, back to his side. “God, I’m sorry,” Greg apologised, taking a step back and excusing himself to a box of tissues that he noticed to the. “I really didn’t mean to fall apart like that. I don’t know what is wrong with me. I’d say that we should ignore all that just happened, but I know that’s not about to happen. How… um… how are you? Before all that? Sherlock’s, well yeah, Sherlock’s doing good so far… not making many friends on the team, but he seems to be doing well enough with the cases as a distraction.” Moving over to the chairs, Mycroft pulled his out, as always, and then took a seat across the corner from him, his hands clasped together on the table.

                “Gregory, there is no need to make small talk, I know this is a lot for you to take in. Please, take a moment if needed.” Greg smiled his thanks back to Mycroft as he was given an excuse to sort himself out, beating himself up for making a right mess of everything.

                “Thanks,” He murmured, smiling as let out a long sigh, making sure he didn’t look as bad as he felt when the staff came in.

                “I have prepared another specialty for you, or well, I guess prepared isn’t the right word, I’ve never been very good at cooking, that was always your strong suit.” Mycroft chuckled, once again starting to introduce their meal to him. Greg hummed at the smell of the soup, his mouth starting to water in anticipation. “German food, that is what I requested for this meal, but I must admit, if I keep this up and have these special meals planned, I’m soon going to run out of countries before we run out of lunches together. Here we have Eintopf, or in English, bean and pork sausage ragout. It’s a classic soup that you always made whenever I was under the weather, or it was a tad chilly outside. Seasoned with onion, garlic, sauerkraut, basil and romano cheese, and paired with beans, tomatoes, and ground pork. Guten Appetit.”

                “Perfect timing then, huh?” Greg joked softly about the mention of making it when Mycroft hadn’t felt very good, taking a sip and realising exactly why he would feel better after eating it. The soup wasn’t heavy by any stretch of the imagination, but definitely a comfort food, the sauerkraut keeping it from tasting like any other stew and giving it that German distinction. “Well, I guess you’ll get to introduce me to your favourites, and I’m sure you’ve traveled other places as well, not just where we have lived, especially with a job like yours. That, or I’ll have to start trying to make them myself and I can host lunch instead.” Greg offered, smiling a bit at the idea that his love for cooking was a trait that carried through as well.

                “Yes, well, we shall see what I am able to come up with,” Mycroft chuckled, taking a few sips of his soup as they fell into conversation easily.

                “How many languages can you speak, anyway? I feel like that was something that you were always stronger at, or just maybe you had more time to practice. Though I’m sure some are different now than when you first learned to speak them.”

                “I haven’t ever counted how many, but there are plenty. Latin, Greek, German, French, Italian, Chinese, Japanese, English, and some others, but that’s not important. It tends to come in handy when you are dealing with foreign entities, what with my line of work and all.” Greg laughed softly as Mycroft listed off all the different languages he could speak, shaking his head in amusement and simply happy that all the nerves that had built up earlier, were finally being put to rest once more. It was easy to relax over a meal, humming and savouring the food, enjoying every bite.

                When they had finished, the staff came out and cleared the dishes away, bringing with them a new meal. Greg’s mouth watered just at the smell before he quickly tucked into his first bite with a self-indulgent moan, listening to the other explain the dish.

                “Now, this one we shared as a favourite, spaetzle champignon, a thick egg noodle with butter, cheese and a mushroom gravy over top, and wiener schnitzel for the meat, which of course is thinly pounded and seasoned pork that has been breaded and lightly fried.” Squeezing the lemon wedge over the top, Greg took a few more bites, savouring the delicious meal.

                “I could make this, you know. Easily. Seriously. Next time, well maybe not _next_ time, next time, but sometime soon. I’ll make this. Spaetzle’s super easy to make too, just get a pie tin and poke some holes in it and taadaa. I remember making this once in Uni, and blowing my flat mates’ minds.” He grinned, realising that he had been able to do that without even looking up the recipe, which he supposed should have been a bit harder than it had been. “Sorry, just really good.”

                “No, do not apologise, I would love to have you cook again for me some time,” Mycroft smiled, taking a few bites of his schnitzel, always after Greg had taken one first. This was nice, having a meal with the other, easy conversations and good food. The lunch went on as such, changing subjects, drifting from one to the other, never any awkward pauses or silences. Finishing their meals, Greg sat back in the chair completely stuffed. “I do not think I have let myself indulge on food that much in a very long time.” Mycroft chuckled again, rubbing a hand over his stomach as he let out a small groan. “So, tell me, what do you think of Sherlock’s talents? Now that you have had some time with him, you have seen a better representation of what he can do. I know that he is a pain, very oblivious to how he affects others, but he is brilliant, and I think he’s finally putting his talents to good use.”

                Greg hummed as he sat back in his chair, picking up his beer that he was sure Mycroft had brought in from some little village in the middle of Germany just for him.

                “Also, would you like these left overs as well? I will have the staff wrap it up again for you.” Nodding and setting down his beer, Greg gave his thanks as Mycroft waved the staff to have them put a to-go bag together.

                “I’d love to take this back home with me, yeah. As for your brother… he is most likely the smartest asshole in the world. I think he likes pretending that he hates everyone around him, and he doesn’t care what others think, but I’ve seen how he lights up when I praise him or ask him directly for help. He wants to be helpful; he just doesn’t want to help everyone. Very odd like that…” Greg chuckled as he tried to find the best way to describe Sherlock. He certainly felt very protective of him out in the field, especially when the others had some not so nice things to say about him. Of course Sherlock had to complain about not needing anyone’s help, but that didn’t stop him from tending to stay close to Greg’s side when the others started to get particularly vicious against him. “I don’t quite know what to do about how harsh everyone is with him, but he did end up following me to St. Bart’s to pick up a file from one case, and he met one of the professors there. They seemed to take to each other pretty well, and he even offered to let him play around in the lab as long as he didn’t ruin anything there. Here’s to hoping we won’t be having to rebuild a hospital when he ‘accidentally’ blows something up in their basement.”

                Mycroft looked up, brows raised at the mention of Sherlock at Bart’s, his attention now completely with him.

                “Gregory, I do believe I have an idea as far as introducing Sherlock back to John. Sorry, I know this is a jump in subject, but John is an army doctor having done his studies at St. Bart’s, and I’m sure he still has friends there that will now be working with Sherlock. If someone else brings them together, say… Mike Stamford, the professor, it might just work.” Mycroft looked so proud of himself, as if he had just discovered the cure of the common cold. “Anthea estimates that we will have another six or so years before John will be coming back to England… that is unless something brings him home earlier. That should be enough time to prepare Sherlock, get him in the habit of working with you, and establish relationships with those as the hospital.”

                Greg hummed at the idea, though he couldn’t quite see how it would work. It was tricky enough to get Sherlock to do what Greg asked him to, without him complaining that Mycroft had set him up to it. Getting someone at the hospital to join in with them to reintroduce John to Sherlock without asking too many questions might be even more so. It was worth a try, of course, especially if it made Sherlock happy.

                “We could certainly give it a go. Like you said, we have some time to sort out the rest of the plan, but it’s better than anything we’ve got as of now,” Greg nodded, finishing the last of his beer and setting it down before turning to the glass of water waiting for him. It felt weird, to be sitting here playing match maker for Sherlock and a man he didn’t know. “I have enough direct contact with the hospital that it’ll be easy for him to work there, so we won’t have to worry about that. It’ll just be making sure he doesn’t anger the wrong people and get us both kicked out.

                “Yes, right. I will work on finding someone who will be able to deal with Sherlock, but also wants to be there. I have heard of a promising young lady that is finishing her studies in university to work as a forensic pathologist. Ms. Hooper might be _just_ what we are looking for,” Greg had heard that name before, remembering he had seen the woman there a few times. Very smart, though a bit nervous. She would either be perfect, or get steamrolled. “Well, Gregory, as always it has been a pleasure to have lunch with you, and I think I will take a look at my calendar this time to see when we can chance another.” Groaning when he was reminded of the time, Greg frowned and followed the man out onto the front step of the club, glancing around quickly to remember where he had parked before returning his attention to Mycroft with a matching smile.

                “Sorry about all of… _that_ , at first,” Greg apologised. “I’d like to have lunch again, for sure. Also… in about a month, we will be having our annual officer’s ball, and while I don’t know if I’ll be going with a plus one or not, if you happened to find yourself as a guest there, I’d be more than happy to see you.” Greg offered, wanting to invite Mycroft to come, but not wanting to make any promises on if the Mrs. Would show or not, and wanting to give the man an easy way out of the situation if it was uncomfortable.

                “I will see if that can be arranged. Well, we shall chat soon, and do not worry about Anthea, I will handle her. I am sorry she intimidated you so. She does care, but sometimes she can a bit much. Take care?” Mycroft gave him a sympathetic smile and held out his hand. Taking Mycroft’s hand in both of his, he gave him a soft squeeze, hoping the other could see that he was trying. It would be some time before he would be able to bring himself to that step, but at least they now had an understanding and an agreement that Greg would be able to do this on his own timeline, without the threat of Mycroft leaving him out of anger or hurt.

                “You as well, My. I’d say have a good night in German, but I’m sure I’d only slaughter it. Greg said with a fond laugh, squeezing his hand once more before letting it slide out of his own. “I’ll talk to you later, I’m sure.” He promised, watching Mycroft a moment longer before forcing himself to turn away and head over to his car, stealing one last quick wave goodbye before getting in and making his way back to the office.

 


	7. VI

          Mycroft had secured a position for the annual officer’s ball as the head of security, mostly because his team was the highest rated for the position but, it also guaranteed an invitation to the event. The Ball was hosted each year to raise money for the New Scotland Yard, in hopes of purchasing new equipment and allowing them the room to hire staff and give raises where they were due. Having arrived early before their guests, Mycroft oversaw his team as they set up, coordinating the CCTV outside with the cameras indoors, and assigning posts and shift changes. 

          “I will be attending tonight, so please, message or call me if you have any questions,” He flashed a quick smile towards the chief of his team, straightening himself out and tugging at the bottom of his jacket. There was a stiff nod from the other as he turned back around to monitor the screens, the soft sound of his staff just coming over the audio for mic checks filling the air. Turning on his heels, Mycroft left the room to where Anthea was waiting for him outside, dressed in an impeccable gown that he had just purchased for her.  It was a slimming navy blue gown with sequins, that matched his beautiful bespoke pinstripe suit. “Hello dear,” He smiled, leaning down to lay a quick kiss on her cheek before extending his arm out for her to take. “Shall we join the festivities?” Raising a brow, he smiled as they started off towards the main hall. 

          Not only was she his assistant to this event, knowing that should any security questions arise that were not an immediate threat they were to contact her first, but his buffer for any desperate birds who only wished to gain access to his money and power. As they approached the main hall, his eyes scanned the scene, looking for that silver hair amongst the crowd, wondering if he had arrived just yet. 

          “Shall I get you a drink sir?” Anthea asked softly, turning to face him as they stopped, looking around the room.

          “Yes, thank you love,” A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he shifted his hands to be clasped behind his back, now that Anthea was no longer at his side. As his eyes scanned the crowd and the minutes ticked by, Mycroft’s smile faded into a frown, wondering why the other hadn’t made an appearance just yet. That was until heard that voice behind him, startling him slightly, but covering it enough so other wouldn’t notice. 

          “Can I help you with anything, Sir? You seem a bit out of place.” Pausing a moment before turning around, he collected himself and put on a smile as he looked to the other, those chocolate eyes and smirk making his heart flutter. 

          “Oh, I’m sorry Detective Inspector, I was invited here as the head of security, but also by a friend, cannot seem to locate him. Perhaps you have seen him, he’s about this tall, silver hair and a devilish smile.” Mycroft questioned, a small but playful smirk across his features. “It’s good to see you Gregory, and I’m sorry I haven’t been very good at keeping in contact as of late, things have really gotten quite heated at work, what with the Prime Minister throwing a tantrum… wait, no. I’m not going to come here, on your night, and talk politics. Now, Anthea is getting me a drink, but I’m assuming you will want one too… shall we go and find her?” Mycroft smiled, looking down and waiting for the other to agree before leading the way. He had to admit, the other looked dashing in the suit he was currently sporting, the colours complementing his complexion and the smile he wore lit up the whole room. “So I see that you are running solo tonight, was this not a grand enough even for the Mrs.?” He questioned, raising a brow and looking to the other as they made their way across the room to where Anthea was waiting. “I’m sorry, that was harsh, please forgive me,” He quickly added after a few moments when Gregory looked a tad hurt at the mention of her. 

          “It’s fine, really. When I mentioned it last week, she pointed out that I wasn’t receiving any awards or promotions, so there wasn’t much of a reason to come.” Gregory sighed, Mycroft for another flute of champagne, taking the glass from Anthea and handing it to Gregory. “Let’s just not talk about her tonight, yeah? I’ll introduce you around to some of my friends, it’ll be fun.” 

          “I would love to meet your friends, Gregory,” Mycroft smiled, Anthea gave him a knowing grin before walking off to find Ryan who would be arriving soon, leaving them alone together. 

          “You know, the only person who still calls me that is my  Mémé, right?” Greg chuckled, making his way through the crowd towards another group of officers who were laughing at a story one of the officers was telling.

          “I don’t mind calling you that, even if it makes me comparable to your Mémé,” As the other introduced his colleagues, Mycroft smiled and greeted each of them, committing their names to memory, and how they knew Gregory. Beyond that, his focus was mostly on the other. Seeing him bounce about, laughing as he spoke with his friends, and actually appearing far happier than he had seen him in a while was nice. “They seem like very lovely people, dear, they really do. I’m glad you have great group of friends to support you.” As they made their way towards the sidelines, it was as if her ears were ringing and she  _ had _ to stop in. “Sergeant Donovan,” that same grimace was on her face from the first time he had met her, but it didn’t seem to be directed towards him. Her first impression had not been the best, and with how she treated Sherlock, calling him freak instead of by his name, it would be hard to rectify that impression. 

          “Sally,” Gregory started, but was immediately cut off by the other, her tone sounding rather urgent. 

          “Hey, boss, we need to talk,” Gregory didn’t seem to pick up on the emergency she was alluding to, but Mycroft knew where this was going.  _ She  _ was here, and not alone. 

          “Yeah, later? Here, this is…” 

          “ _ Now,  _ boss.  _ She’s  _ here…” That seemed to stop him in his tracks, his face going pale as his eyes scanned the room around them. “You don’t have to be here, you know. I can cover for you if you want to leave. When the others realise, they’ll understand,” Sally tried to help, reaching across to him to place a hand on his arm. 

          “No I… Fuck… Fuck!” Greg snapped, his tone a bit loud, ringing through the hall, earning a few stares from those around him. “No, I want to see her. Who’s she with?” He was angry now, and rightfully so, but Mycroft could tell this was not going to end well. 

          “I don’t know, I just wanted to find you first. Just… don’t get sacked, boss. I like you.” Sally apologised, leveling a glance in his direction to make sure he understood that Gregory could not be left alone. Mycroft gave a small nod in understanding, quickly placing a hand on the other’s back and moving him to a more private area so he could sort things out. 

          “I know you said you wanted to stay, and I will respect whatever your decision is, but tell me if you need me to do anything? If you point her out, we can easily avoid her, and I will be happy to help. I know this is happening very quickly, but I need you to tell me before it’s too late,” 

          “Mycroft, just shut up!” There was sting when the other had told him off, his hands suddenly coming back to himself as he flinched, still feeling a tad tender as the other apologised. “I…I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do, but what I do want, is for you to make sure I don’t end up murdering her, or getting fired tonight,” Gregory sighed, looking around the room again, and obviously finding his target, because in a split second he was making his way through the crowd. Swearing under his breath, Mycroft followed closely behind, almost running into him when he came to a sudden stop. 

          “Caroline!” Greg hissed, Mycroft’s eyes turning to whom he could only assume was her. 

          “Greg, sweetie. What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t coming.” She tried to cover herself, tucking a tendril of hair nervously behind her ear as she looked over to the other. 

          “Really? You’re asking  _ me  _ that?! You can’t even be here without a plus one!” There was another voice now, a man who was pushing through the crowd to find her, placing a hand on her lower back and smiling over to them. 

          “Nicole, our table is over here. Oh, hello Detective Inspector….” 

          “Lestrade.” Gregory was cold, his tone harsh, and his features stern as his attention was now turned to the other officer. “Superintendent Davis, yes?” This was even worse than Mycroft had thought, not only was she here with another officer, but one of Gregory’s superiors. 

          “Yes, I suppose I’m probably the only new one around huh? It’s good to meet you, I hope to see you around though. Nicole,” The man nodded, trying to lead her away before Greg finally snapped. 

          “Caroline Nicole Lestrade, it’s over you cheating, lying, whore of a bitch!” Greg yelled, the surrounding area now growing painfully silent as everyone turned their attention to them. Luckily they stepped aside as Gregory bolted for the door, probably going to hide in the alley beside the building, or somewhere other’s wouldn’t seek him out. Mycroft’s eyes were wide in shock from hearing the other raise his voice in public like he did, but he couldn’t blame him for doing so. There were hushed whispers as everyone made comments about what they had just heard, Caroline herself looking like she wasn’t sure what to do now. Clearing his throat, her attention fell to him. 

          “You can go crawl away to whatever rubbish you have attended the event with tonight, but I can tell you right now, you are very lucky. I am a very powerful man, with means to send you elsewhere and be your worst nightmare, but Gregory, for whatever reason I cannot fathom, has asked me to leave you be. If it were my choice, you would be in a country no one has ever heard of, with no contact and no way to come back home. Now, scurry along before I decide to go against my word and send you there myself.” Mycroft’s voice was heavy and threatening, using the same tone he did with so many politicians, having them scurry back to their holes with their tails between their legs. When she finally left, he let out a breath and made his way towards the exit, intent on finding Gregory to make sure he was okay. 

*****

          Greg was standing outside, just on the curb with a lit cigarette he had bummed off someone, but hadn’t taken a drag from yet. His hands were shaking from the rage he felt, and he was just glad he hadn’t punched a hole through a wall yet. 

          “It’s over, done. I’m done with her. I should kick her out of the flat, really. Christ, my new superior? I didn’t…” Greg groaned, looking down at the cigarette in his hand, only to flick a bit of ash off the end. still He was sure that if he were to take a drag now, he would only choke on the smoke from breathing it too deep. “I don’t even feel better now that it’s over. I just feel sick.” Greg complained softly, looking up at Mycroft who was watching him, quite obviously out of his comfort zone, and not knowing what he was supposed to do. “You don’t think I’m going to get in trouble for that, do you?” 

          “Even if I thought for a second, that you could get reprimanded, I would have it stopped before they could even get the words out of their mouth. As for your flat, if you need a place to stay, I have plenty of room at my manor, an extra guest suit really. It would be the least I could do. If that is too much, I do have an extra flat I use as a safe house.” Mycroft paused, reaching over to take the cigarette from Greg’s hand. He didn’t fight, just watched as he took a puff and exhaled the smoke around them. Greg didn’t have many memories of him smoking except perhaps in stressful situations. “I normally don’t smoke, but considering the circumstances, I think I will allow myself a few puffs tonight,” 

          “You could grant me a palace and I’d still sleep on the couch outside tonight,” Greg murmured, finally reaching out to take the cigarette back and taking a drag himself. “Thank you, though… for the offer. I know you mean well. Just… hurts. A lot. I don’t understand  _ why _ when I knew it was going to be this way…” Greg continued to talk softly, bits of smoke coming out with each word as he simply didn’t have the strength to exhale it all at once. “I’ve got a change of clothes at the office, learned to keep them there after getting dirty on the job, which is good because I don’t want to go home tonight. I don’t want to be alone, but I don’t want to go home. I think, if it’s alright, I’ll stay in the safe house.” 

          “It hurts because she had never done it in front of you, but Gregory, this is not your fault, and you shouldn’t put any blame on yourself,” Mycroft pulled his mobile phone out, probably messaging Anthea to set up the safe house for him, and god knew what else. “I know you said you unsure if you wanted to be alone, but do you want me to take you home? I will be going home at the end of the night, I wouldn’t dare stay over.” Mycroft looked to him, not sure if it was the right thing to say, “I will be an utter gentleman, and if you don’t want me to come over, just say the word…” The Politician started to go on and on, and Greg had to stop himself from laughing when Mycroft stopped himself, looking embarrassed. 

          They had already crossed so many boundaries before tonight, but now, with their new vague freedom, it was almost funny to see the man still so hesitant to do anything. It was why he loved him, he realised, with another dash of painful sobriety. He did, didn’t he? Love this foolish man. It was hard not to with everything they had between them, talking nearly every day, one way or another, either through email or text, or lunch. He was always there on nights that were particularly rough for whatever reason, and ready to laugh with him about the latest situations that Sherlock had gotten himself into. 

          “You’re adorable,” Greg finally said, looking back towards the party before taking Mycroft’s wrist, leading him down the sidewalk, ignoring the black car that started to follow them along the road. “Your driver is like a lost dog that doesn’t know what to do. There’s a park nearby, I just want to sit for a moment before we go off to your safe house.” 

          “Yes, well, a man is dragging me down the sidewalk to a dark park, I am sure they wish to keep an eye on me for security purposes.” Mycroft laughed as he followed, not that Greg was giving him much of a choice. “You do realise that I will go with you to the park, you do not need to drag me, Gregory,” The other was struggling to keep pace with his stride, realising he had him in a rather awkward position, being pulled by the wrist. It was Greg’s turn to blush when Mycroft mentioned it, murmuring his apology as they stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and the car pulled up to idle alongside them. “It’s fine, I appreciate the enthusiasm, but, something like  _ this  _ might be a tad easier,” 

          Looking over to the offered hand, Greg felt bad for the way he faltered and hesitated to take it, but this was a bit of a defining moment for him. Making good on all those words he had just said, and couldn’t take back. He wanted a different life now, with  _ this  _ man. 

          “Yeah,” Greg agreed, slowly slipping his hand into Mycroft’s and closing their fingers around one another’s, allowing for him to start leading the way again. “Thank you.” As they walked towards the park, he saw Mycroft give a sign to the driver, probably to tell him they wouldn’t be long, and to be watching them. They found a bench, taking a seat, and he was careful not to break contact with the other as he did, the cool air rushing through the trees, clearing his head a bit. 

          “It’s beautiful outside tonight, not too cold, not too hot,” Mycroft smiled, closing his eyes and enjoying the breeze. “Did you come here to chat or do you want some silence to sort things out?”

          “I’m not sure,” Greg admitted after a moment, sliding down the bench to rest his head against the back as he looked up at the sky above them. “I just don’t want to be cooped up inside a car right now. I really shouldn’t have said what I did back there, but… I don’t know. Maybe I can get a few days off from work so I don’t have to look everyone in the eye tomorrow.” Greg murmured, the reality of everything slowly settling back onto his shoulders. Now that the rage had left him, and the rush of knowing he had Mycroft there beside him, he was starting to realise what he had done. “It’s all so daunting right now, I don’t even want to think about it. Not like it’s possible to just ignore it, but just not talk about it maybe. Leave it for tomorrow, when I’m not wanting to file my resignation.”  

          “I have already had it arranged that you will be taking a few days off, paid of course. Your superior was there as I made my way out tonight, and informed me that should you need it, you can take a few days to yourself. You work for good people, save the one idiot that was there tonight,” Greg huffed a laugh, turning his head to look over at Mycroft as he went through everything, wondering just how much of a drama king he looked like to everyone. 

          “My, I don’t blame the superintendent. That was the first time we met, he only started maybe a month ago. I don’t think he knew.” Greg said softly, not sure why he felt the need to defend his superior, except that maybe it would hurt a little less if he honestly believed that the other wasn’t doing it on purpose. Just an innocent bystander who didn’t know, and was with the wrong person at the wrong time. 

          “Well, we can do whatever you wish tonight. I do own all seasons of Doctor Who, we could watch that, drink a few beers, anything you would like.” Mycroft gave his hand a small squeeze and smiled down to him. The idea of Mycroft owning all of Doctor Who made him chuckle, and he pushed himself upright again, rubbing a thumb across the back of Mycroft’s hand in a silent thanks. 

          “I think I’d like that. We could just stop at a shop and get some beer. Doesn’t have to be anything fancy.” 

          “Too late my dear, I have already had some dropped at the safe house, as well as a few of your belongings from your home as well. Please don’t be too cross with me, I figured it would make things easier.” Mycroft stood, pulling Greg to his feet and he smiled as he allowed himself to be taken back to the car, shaking his head at how quickly Mycroft always seemed to be able to sort things out. It didn’t take long to make it to the flat, the building looking just like any other, nothing in particular standing out, but then again, that was what a safe house was supposed to be. As they walked up to the front door, Greg was surprised when he was given a key for the flat, about to ask how Mycroft was able to do that so fast when he remembered the purposed of the house. No doubt the other always had a key on hand. Though really, he had always thought of a safe house as being some hole in the wall studio, that was meant to last just long enough until they could get away. This was not that. It was very simple, a walk up flat,  bit like he had already. Standard kitchen, bathroom, bedroom, small, but comfortable, and in no way miserable. 

          “Thank you. Really. For all of this, I don’t know what to say.” 

          “There is no need to thank me Gregory. You know I would do whatever you asked, and this is my way of helping. Now, go take a shower and take some of that stress off. I will put on a pot of tea and get the entertainment up and running, okay?” Nodding, Greg was shooed off towards the master suite, noticing his clothes were already laid out on the bed. Mycroft, of course, had been right to say that a shower was exactly what he needed, and Greg found himself standing under the hot spray for a couple minutes, just letting it run down his back. This was really happening. He was separating from his wife. How was he going to afford it, and was it really necessary for him to file for divorce? They had separate bank accounts, having met a bit later in life, only sharing one for bills. That would really be the only thing for grabs between them, that, and the flat, but even then it would be pretty straight forward. They had been living an estranged life for a couple of months now, surely they could just keep on like that. Of course, Greg knew that wouldn’t be what Mycroft wanted, but for now, it might just be the easiest option. The politician wanted  _ him _ , and just him. Deciding to figure out the mess of it all later, Greg sorted out the different soaps and shampoos that were stashed away in the shower, scrubbing off the night, before returning to the bedroom and changing into an old shirt and some gym shorts. walking to the main room, Mycroft had made them something to eat, the telly already showing the previews for whatever DVD he had chosen. 

           “So, what are we watching? You know you don’t have to stay in your suit either, if you don’t want to…” 

          “Doctor who, third doctor, and here, I have made you a Panini. As far as my dress, I don’t have anything else to change into, but I am very comfortable.” 

          “I meant you don’t have to wear your tie and coat if you don’t want to,” Greg added, even though he hadn’t really meant anything more than that. The food was simple and the show was familiar and calming. After his second beer, along with the alcohol from the party, Greg felt more relaxed than he had in all night. Smiling up at Mycroft when he rejoined them from clearing their plates, he grabbed another beer, figuring there was no harm in having a third since it wasn’t like he would be going anywhere that night or the next day. After a while he slumped down further, his head resting on Mycroft’s shoulder. This was nice. He could get used to this faster than he thought. 

          Greg was blissfully unaware of how awkward he was making things for Mycroft, finishing his third beer, and sending himself into a warm buzz. Sure, it probably wasn’t the best thing for him to do at the moment, but it kept him from thinking. He wasn’t really paying attention to the show anymore, just following along with the motions and smiling whenever there was a joke that made Mycroft laugh. He really ought to go to bed, but that would mean foregoing the company he wanted so very much. 

          “I’m going to end up falling asleep and drooling on your shoulder if we keep sitting like this,” Greg finally admitted after the last episode on the DVD finished. “I should go to bed. You probably have to work tomorrow, huh?” 

         “Well yes, but I can arrange to work from anywhere if you do not wish to be alone… I can postpone going into work, just for the morning till you are up. Then, if you feel as if you are wanting company, call or message me and I will be right over. For now though, I think it is probably best if you do go to bed. You seem thoroughly worn out.” Greg hummed as he watched Mycroft stand, his normally lopsided smile even more so with the drinks in his system, and he was thankful for the stability the other offered. 

         “I’m drunk. I’m not going to remember what you just said, but I’ll call you.” Greg admitted with a laugh, still holding onto the other man and looking up at him. He wanted to kiss Mycroft, somewhere between a little peck on the cheek and pin him to the wall and snog him out of his suit, but that would definitely be a bad idea that they would regret in the morning. “I’m glad you are here,” Greg murmured, allowing Mycroft to lead him into the bedroom and sitting down on the edge of the bed, still holding tight to the others hand. “I’m really glad you found me again, I mean, like,  _ really _ glad,” He added, lifting the politician’s hand to press a ghost of a kiss to his knuckles. 

         “I am as well Gregory, I always will be. Now, go to bed. I will set a reminder on your mobile and you call me in the morning okay? Actually, if you need anything, no matter the hour, please call. I am a very light sleeper.” Mycroft leaned in and pressed a tender kiss to his forehead, Greg smiling like an idiot and looking up at the other from where he sat, desperately trying not to pull him down on top of him. It was probably for the best that he didn’t though, nearly positive that he would end up hurting one or both of them. Instead, he just watched as Mycroft gently pulled back, watching while Greg moved to get under the sheets. 

         “G’night My.” Greg mumbled, his eyes already closing against his will, trying desperately to stay awake just a little longer to see the man out, but it was useless. He was already snoring softly by the time Mycroft was at the front door. 

  
  



	8. VII

         Mycroft would never invade Gregory’s privacy. For his safety though, his security team was monitoring the safe house and all incoming messages for threats or other situations they may need to take care of. A team was sent around to collect Gregory’s things from the flat, after his wife sent a message that she had left them on the curb. After they had been recovered from the street, the team brought them to a storage unit close to his manor, one that Sherlock had used plenty of times. Mycroft found he had an easier time resting that night, knowing everything was taken care of, but he still only slept for a couple hours before waking to the sound of his mobile again. Groaning, he stretched in his bed and fumbled to grab his nagging device. 

> **Morning. Still alive, technically. Feel a bit like death. Found the painkillers already. GL**
> 
> _ Yes, I am sure you are a bit hungover, you really did drink quite a bit last night. – M _
> 
> **How long until I’m kicked out of here? Sounds like Caroline moved me out. Need to figure out what to do about that. GL**
> 
> _ Do not worry about how long you need to stay there, what is mine is yours, as I’m sure you are well aware. Your things were collected from the street last night and are safely in a storage unit. –M _

         Mycroft made his way to the shower, taking his time and relaxing under the hot water. Anthea had already brought everything he needed to his study so he could work from home. His staff was also busy cooking breakfast and on their way to collect Gregory. Looking through his clothes, Mycroft settled for a pair of trousers, a white button up that he rolled the sleeves on, and a pair of burgundy suspenders. Gregory had mentioned that he should wear something more comfortable, and beyond his dressing gown, this was as under dressed as he got. Moving down stairs, Mycroft knew the other would be arriving in a half hour, which gave him some time to check his emails and any awaiting questions from the office. If he could, Mycroft would love to work every day from home, but with as many meetings as he hosted and the security measures that were in place, he knew that would never be a possibility. 

         A few things had popped up in his absence. He quickly took care of them and made sure everything was settled, just in time to hear the chime from the front gates. Sending off his last reply, Mycroft stood and made his way towards the front door, wanting to greet Gregory into their home. Mycroft was clearly in awe, which put a small smile on his face, as this home had been Gregory’s choice. He always said that the home clearly suited Mycroft, so they purchased it, seeing as it would just be Mycroft full time, and Gregory intermittent throughout the years. Chuckling softly, Mycroft smiled as the other gave a soft ‘hey,’ while continuing to look around, letting him take it all in. After a few moments, Gregory’s attention shifted back to him with that same smile. 

         “I like this look on you, also… does this place have a map? Pretty sure I’m going to get lost in here. I have to admit,  I don’t have any memory of this place.” 

         “This? Well you did mention that I should wear something casual yesterday, so I figured this was the most ‘casual’ outfit I owned beyond just a dressing gown so why not.” Smiling, Mycroft held out his hand and waiting, wanted to give the other the tour, but knowing it would have to wait until after breakfast. “You will not need a map, it will come back to you. Actually, you chose this house, not me. Said it suited me. I’m sure there is one room in particular that you will remember.” He said in a lower tone, winking at the other as they made their way towards the kitchen. “But, it will have to wait till after breakfast, the tour… that is.” Mycroft didn’t want Gregory to think he was going to take him to bed the moment they were done eating, especially when it was only the day after he had left his wife. 

         Mycroft had specifically asked for a selection of food that was considered best for hangovers. Apparently the greasier the better, or so he was told. Of course, the majority of it would be for Gregory, having to watch his figure and all. He would be sticking to a few boiled eggs and a couple slices of English muffin with jam. Pulling out a chair, Mycroft waited for the other to sit, before taking his spot across from him. 

         “Thanks, this looks amazing, and not just because I’m a bit hungover. Sorry about that by the way. I realised I more than likely made a fool of myself trying to get to bed last night.” Chuckling, Mycroft took a bite of his food after Gregory had already started to tuck in, swallowing and taking a small sip of orange juice. 

         “I figured this meal would help with that. I was informed it would soak up the remaining alcohol and help with those nasty headaches. Not that I can attest to that, I can’t say that a hangover is something I have experienced before, and it’s not exactly on my bucket list either. As for last night, do not worry. You had every right to drink and act the way you did, and actually, you were very sweet. Even gave me a kiss on my hand,” Mycroft smirked as he took another bite, trying to hold back a small laugh as he thought about the gesture. “Now, as far as that flat goes, I know you expressed concern about staying there, but you are welcome to stay as long as you would like, or…” He trailed off, taking a quick sip of his drink before setting it back down again, “When you are ready, I have a guest quarters here that is far more comfortable than the flat, and you can stay here instead.” Finishing off his eggs, Mycroft moved onto the muffin, spreading the jam over the butter and then placing the knife down. “Don’t feel like you need to make a decision right away either. Please, take your time.” 

         “The flat is plenty comfortable really. It’s more… me.” Greg offered between bites, trying to pace himself. “I think I’d rather that right now, if you don’t mind. Not that I don't want to see you, or come around here, as I’m sure you’d be able to have a much better movie night than what we had last night, but…” He trailed off with a bit of a shrug, nibbling at a bit of beans and toast. “I’m just thankful either way that I’m not couchsurfing right now. Thank you for that much, and I know you’ll say it’s not a problem, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m still thankful.” 

         “I don’t mind at all, you do what is best for you.” Mycroft smiled, finishing his breakfast and setting down his silverware, letting his food settle and just enjoying the company. “You are always welcome here, and as far as movies go, I do believe my home theatre system is much better equipped than the set at the flat.” Mycroft chuckled, standing and cleaning the dishes off the table, placing them in the dishwasher and wiping down the table after they had finished. He smiled when the other thanked him, and called him out on his typical response. “Well, now that you have eaten breakfast, would you like the grand tour?” He questioned, standing with his hands on the counter, facing the other, “Obviously you’ve seen the kitchen and dining area, nothing too fancy, but a beautiful kitchen nonetheless.” 

         Moving through the archway, Mycroft entered a hall that lead to the foyer, as well as housed the spiral staircase to the lower and upper floors. “Down stairs there isn’t much, just the guest suite. It’s normally where my parents stay when they visit, or Sherlock when he was completely out of it and needed watching over.” Moving through the next arch, he pointed to the office he had been working in. “This is the home office, it’s where my library is located, and where I occasionally work if I am so lucky, and through that door is yet another bedroom that I actually keep mostly for storage.” Moving back to the stairs, they made their way up, hand ghosting over the railing till they reached the second floor. “To the left is our reception room, somewhere I tend to host formal parties, nothing too spectacular. Mycroft paused, letting Gregory take a look around before moving to the next room, across the hall. “This is the music room. Sherlock loved playing violin, still does on occasion, but I was always more attached to the Piano. This Grand Piano is from the height of classical music, one of my precious heirlooms and sometimes, when Sherlock is feeling rather friendly, we play together. Though, that hasn’t happened in some time.” There was a faint smile on his lips as he laid a gentle hand on the piano, remembering their duets and how lovely it was when the other hadn’t been addicted to drugs. “The room next to this is also storage, so nothing to see there, but the top floor, well that is my  _ personal _ floor.” 

          Walking back to the stairwell, he led Gregory to the top, turning to the right first to show him the dressing room and a private terrace overlooking London, then back to his bedroom door. “This, is the master suite,” He let Gregory step through first, taking the beautiful décor in a warm gray colour on most walls with a red accent wall behind the bed, exposed stone fireplace and a completely modern bathroom with amenities. 

          “It’s definitely beautiful,” Gregory murmured, brushing his hand lightly over the stone as he walked around, peeking into the bathroom with an amused laugh. “Maybe I won’t need a map to keep up with this, but I must admit, this loo looks like it comes with an owner’s manual,” Greg chuckled, smiling when Mycroft laughed as well. 

          “Oh come now, Gregory, I think you are exaggerating a bit with the wash room, it isn’t  _ that  _ complicated.” 

          “Well, this is all so fantastic, and I can see why I picked it out for you,” A distant look on the other’s face as he walked around got Mycroft reminiscing about the memories they held in the house together. 

          “Yes, well it feels… like home seeing you back in this room, and I hope I don’t make you feel uncomfortable saying that. It’s just been a long time, and this house feels far too big for just one person most days. Your smile and heart seem to fill it perfectly.” Mycroft moved over the to bedside table, picking up the picture frame and smiling as he saw the two of them looking back at him. The photo was from when they first bought the house at the turn of the century. Setting the frame back down, Mycroft looked up to the other, who also seemed deep in thought. “Well, it is up to you how we spend this day, if you wish to watch some telly for a while, be my guest. I do have a few things I need to sort through for work, or I can work on them later and we can do something else. The day is ours, whatever you choose.” Smiling his hand lingered by the portrait of them, trying to hold onto those feelings. There was a small pang in his heart, because he knew, even with the wife out of the picture, Gregory still wasn’t his, or in love with him, like he was. 

          Gregory moved to sit on the edge of his bed, holding his hand out and waiting for Mycroft to take it. Sitting down next to the other man, he smiled, holding tight, but the smile quickly fading as he realised something was not quite right. 

          “I think we should talk. Not bad, just… so we’re both on the same page.” Swallowing hard, the lump in his throat caught as the other started, trying to quell the nervous thoughts that were building inside. “I know how you feel about me, and I’m not asking you to stop. I like it, I do. It makes me... happy, and it’s a natural feeling for me to find myself falling for you, but… I’m... nervous that everything is happening too fast. I don’t want to use you to get over Caroline, you deserve better than that, and well…. I’ve never been with a another man.” Greg admitted, pausing and rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. Mycroft knew it took time, and that the other just couldn’t fall for him instantly, or care for him the same way he did, but it still hurt to hear these words spoken aloud. “Not that I’m not, you know, attracted to you,” Gregory quickly added, most likely seeing the hurt on his features. “I’ve said I was Bi for all my adult life, but… I’ve just… never been with another guy save a drunken hand job in the back of a club maybe twenty years ago now. I don’t really know what I’m doing, but I want to try and do it right with you. I don’t mean all this in that you have to earn me or anything, I just want you to know that… I’m learning, and I need time.” 

          “I understand Gregory,” His voice was soft, fearing that if he spoke any louder, it might crack, and his fight against the emotions he was holding back, would fail. For some reason or another, this time around was one of the worst, the hardest for him, and he had never felt this empty with the other around as much as he did now. _Caring is not an advantage._ It was something Sherlock constantly reminded him of, and he was correct, it was not an advantage. It was hard, messy and painful, but it was worth it. As much as Sherlock denied his feelings for John, and how much he really cared for the other, he did feel them, and it was that pain and devastating loss that made him never want to go there again. There were lonely nights where he wished it were all over, that he wouldn’t have to keep doing this, just so he could avoid all of it, but eventually, it would be worth it, he just had to get there first. 

          “My?” Greg murmured, his tone matching Mycroft’s as he reached out to guide his face up to look him in the eye, brushing his thumb along his cheek as he watched the storm of emotions hidden behind his eyes. “I’m here now, yeah? Not just because you sent Anthea, who probably could have taken me down with one loud whistle this morning, but because I want to be here. If it wasn’t for you, I’d be in the back of some pub somewhere, and I have to say, I’d prefer your company more than anyone else’s right now. If I’m not allowed to keep secrets, you’re not either.” Mycroft let out a choked laugh when the other mentioned Anthea, trying to force a shaky smile as he looked into those eyes. The man who had been there, for years, for centuries, the man who loved him unconditionally and had chosen him time after time, was just a shadow now, sitting across from him. It was still Gregory, but not  _ his  _ Gregory, not just yet. It was a surprise then, when the other leaned in slowly, giving him enough time, to place a soft and gentle kiss on his lips. Mycroft’s breathing hitched and his eyes fluttered shut, leaning in as the other pulled away, his body betraying him and displaying just how much the other controlled him. “Don’t hide from me, please My,” 

          Mycroft’s jaw clenched, swallowing hard again and knowing the other would feel that under his hand. Closing his eyes, he tried to gather his thoughts, trying to form some sort of a response. 

          “I don’t want to hide from you,” He started, having to pause and take a deep breath, his voice shaking as he spoke. “I-I’m sorry,” He stuttered, still trying to compose himself, tears threatening to spill over and pour down his cheeks. Taking a deep breath in, he let it out slowly through parted lips, and let his eyes open to look back at the other, knowing he would notice how utterly wrecked he was, his cheeks turning scarlet from embarrassment. “I don’t know what to say.” Managing those few words was hard enough. 

          “You don’t have to right now,” Greg whispered, brushing his fingers through Mycroft’s hair before pulling him in for another gentle kiss, holding this one longer even than the first. This time was worse though, his whole body fighting to do what he had for centuries, to grab the man, pull him in close, feel them together, to never let go. Mycroft was fighting hard against those urges, his hands somewhere between the bed, and reaching up for the other. Of course he kissed back, but it was controlled, secured, on lock down, instead of trying to taste every inch of the man’s mouth in front of him, memorise everything about him again. Yet again, he was betrayed as his will was not strong enough, his hands moving to rest at the man’s hips, his grip a tad shaky, and a small whimper escaping his lips. Pulling back suddenly, he looked away, bringing his hands to fists that curled tightly in his lap, his eyes scrunched closed, biting his lower lip. 

          “I-I’m sorry, I c-can’t… not when…” Mycroft trailed off, not wanting to finish that sentence and make the other feel as if he was rejecting him. Far from it actually, he was trying to not lose control and do something he would regret later. 

          “Not when what?” Gregory’s voice was just above a whisper, his eyes searching the others. 

          “Not when I can’t control myself around you,” There was a slight tinge of pain as his fingernails dug into the palms of his hands, grounding him in the moment. Every fiber of his being had missed the other, having been fifty god forsaken lonely years, and now, the other was here, in his bedroom,  _ their  _ bedroom, kissing him, but at the same time he wanted to take it slow. Taking a deep breath, Mycroft opened his eyes and looked to the other, hoping his simple answer would be enough. What he really meant to say was not when I want to have you all to myself, tell you everything and keep nothing from you, not when I want to take you, all of you, and give myself completely to you. Not when he knew such things would only turn them in the wrong direction, be a horrible mess, forcing him to lose Gregory. Not when he wasn’t his, not yet. Mycroft wasn’t even sure if this would be the last time around for them, feeling more and more hopeless as time went on. 

          “How… how about we just lay here then? You can tell me the history of the area, or stories, or something like that? We can just… spend time like that?” Gregory offered, but Mycroft wasn’t sure that any amount of just ‘laying there’ and talking of other things would distract him from the thoughts plaguing his mind. Never before had Gregory found out about the past until they were already together. Never before had he had to hold back from the other once the truth had been revealed. Gregory looked back to him and murmured for him to stop, gently unfolding his hands into his before looking down at the blanket between them and going silent. “You took me to Egypt once. To see the pyramids. You got horribly sick from the heat, but we were still able to see them. You were so angry with yourself because I had been so excited, but we stayed inside because you couldn’t handle the heat.” Greg spoke after a couple of tense, silent minutes, giving his hand a small squeeze. “It really was too hot, and there was a lot of sand. Bit glad they have the British Museum now. Egypt in air conditioning.” 

          The memories washed over him, the heat on his skin, the sand between his toes, their clothing completely different from now. They had gone to see the pyramids when the relationship between Egypt and Rome was at its height. In all reality, it could be argued that they were both just using each other instead, but that was a different story. 

          “You wanted to see Giza, I was more interested in the Library of Alexandria, dedicated to the nine goddesses of the arts, which held so many secrets. I am ginger, which never bodes well for heat and sun, so I should have realised it would have been a disaster.” Mycroft shook his head, remembering the horrid trip of riding a camel out to the valley of the kings, and having to return on such an animal when he was barely keeping down his lunch was even worse. “As much as I despise the heat, the British museum is a farce, and they have stolen history from around the world, to show it off, without context. Do not get me started on the British museum, you know how it irritates me.” Or did he? Was Gregory aware of those feelings, did he remember that as well? “There are so many things we saw that no longer exist, or that were destroyed. Such beautiful creations just gone…” 

          “I always liked it though…” Gregory murmured, looking down and away from the other. “I’ll remember them…” He promised after a pause, looking up and looking a tad apologetic. 

          “Well,” Now he felt foolish for having ranted on his feelings towards the museum, knowing that of course the other would like it, not having remembered living through those times. “I supposed you would find it comforting. It must give you a little sense of home, especially with your dreams,” Mycroft gave a soft smile to the other, giving those hands in his a small squeeze when Gregory told him that he  _ would  _ remember them. “I know you will,” Someday. Maybe not in this life, but eventually he would remember it all, and Mycroft would stay with him till the day he did so they could enjoy that moment together. “What else do you remember?” Mycroft’s voice was soft as he asked again, his heart calming now as they moved away from more sensitive topics. His mind was still reeling, but it was a tad easier to control. Rubbing his thumbs over the back of Gregory’s hands, he waited, watching the other change expressions as he tried to recall his dreams. 

          “Greece, maybe? A little town on the coast, full of white buildings and a language I couldn’t understand for anything. It was hot too, but there was always a breeze from the ocean so it wasn’t so bad. There was a scrawny little cat too, that you always gave bits of fish so she would always come around and scream until one of us would pet her.” 

          “Oia, it was a beautiful little cape town, still is actually,” Mycroft chuckled, a smile spreading across his lips as he had almost forgotten the cat. “Aspasia, she was something different. You hated her, or pretended to hate her, and didn’t like that I would give her table scraps to have her come back. I caught you multiple times on the terrace with her in your lap,” It was rather sweet, seeing the two of them curled up in the sun and napping together. “We still own a small home there, maybe we could visit someday?” Mycroft questioned, looking back up at the other. Laying back on the bed, he let go of one hand but held the other, waiting for the other to lay back with him. It was nice sharing memories like this, but it wasn’t enough to completely distract him from the pain he was holding back. 

          “You always liked cats, said they kept the rats away,” Greg murmured, raising an eyebrow to the other as he lay back on the bed with him. 

          “They do keep the rats away,” Mycroft protested, giving the other a very pointed look. “You do realise, the black plague was only spread through rats because the Pope thought cats to be evil, companions to witches, and had as many as he could exterminated. Without the cats, there was no one to dispose or hunt rats, and  _ that  _ is how a third of Europe was wiped out due to silly superstition. Not to mention, they are the only animal to have ever domesticated themselves, in Egypt actually. The Egyptians worshiped them because they were thought to have been sent by the gods to keep the pests out of their food stores. The cats came and went as they pleased, but when they realised they had it good with their human companions, they stayed.” Mycroft gave the other a smug look as he had done, always, when they had the conversations about dogs vs. cats. He preferred cats, independent, self-sufficient creatures that were very clean and only came for attention when they wanted it. Gregory had always preferred dogs of course, loyal, loving and playful, but oh so dependent and messy. 

           Gregory raised his free hand in a small sign of defeat when Mycroft started talking about the plague and how it had been spread due to a lack of cats. The other shook his head and let out a small chuckle as they changed topics, Gregory bringing up another memory. 

           “I remember Heidelberg in the winter, lit up for Christmas and trying to teach you to ice skate.” Gregory mentioned after a small paused. “You never got the hang of it. I always loved the feeling of being on ice, but you were terrible, every time,” Now they were back to Heidelberg, that beautiful city, especially during the winter. 

           “Yes, well typically you have to possess good coordination in able to ice skate, which, unfortunately, I do not. Thank you for that reminder,” Mycroft teased, giving the others hand a small squeeze as he smiled, rolling his eyes playfully at the other’s jab. 

           “So no dates to an ice skating rink this winter?” Gregory threw right back, Smiling and leaning in to give him a kiss on the cheek. Mycroft wanted that kiss to be carefree and light, but it was still tugging at the wrong strings, making him want to pull Gregory close, kiss him till they were panting and tangled, not knowing where his limbs ended and the other’s started. It wasn’t necessarily a desire to take the other man to bed, though eventually he wouldn’t mind that, it was more of a need to have him so very close to him. “Teasing, I wouldn’t do that to you.” Mycroft’s thoughts filled the empty space between them as there was a lull, Gregory silent as he tried to recall another memory together, the pause giving him enough time to bring himself back in, reign in those urges and escape from his own thoughts if possible. “I took you once to see the northern lights. You’d probably seen them plenty of times before, but I was so excited to take you somewhere that you hadn’t mentioned before.” 

           “That was when we were visiting Abisko, in Sweden, said to be one of the best places to view the northern lights. I didn’t think there were words to justify the sheer awe I felt staring up into the sky, with you by my side.” They had practically got frostbite from staying out too long, having not noticed the cold till it was almost too late. 

           “You loved them, you hardly said a word the entire time we were out, just kept me close and watched them for an hour before we got too cold and had to go inside.” 

           “It was such a small village, still is. Under 100 residents I do believe. We ended up staying with a sweet family while there, and you bonded with their young daughter, having gone ice fishing and out with snowshoes on a daily basis.” It was a simple village, simple pleasures and an absolutely stunning display of lights, something he would never forget. 

           “Annika, I can’t believe I forgot about her,” Greg murmured, smiling as he remembered her name. Yes, they had plenty of memories together, plenty of countries they had visited and places they had lived, but it was still an ache to look back and think of how they used to be together versus how they were now. The silence fell between them for a long time, both lost in thought until Gregory spoke up, his voice soft. “Do you have to work today? I need to get my car and things, and probably grab my things and bring them to the flat. I think it will be easier, for both of us, if I don’t live here quite yet…” 

           “Yes, I do have some work I can tend to. If you need a driver, I have someone available that can drop you off at your car. Your items are in a storage unit, and the team can help bring your things to the flat if you would like. I’m sure while you are doing that, I can manage to finish my work here, and then we can come back and have lunch at a later time?” Mycroft sat up, still holding the other’s hand, his cheeks flushing and heart aching as he moved away. Grabbing his mobile, he sent out a message to his stand by driver, as Paul had the day off per his instruction. “The car will be waiting out front for you, when you are ready,” Mycroft smiled, trying to ignore that last comment and making his way down the stairs to his office, waiting till Gregory had walked out the front door to sit and start back on his working, burying himself in the documents as to forget the pain he had been feeling this morning. 

           Mycroft wasn’t sure how long he had been sitting and working. Looking to his clock, it was nearing one in the afternoon. Sighing and taking step back from his work, Mycroft rubbed his hands over his eyes, leaning back in his chair and bringing his hands to a steeple under his chin. As he letting his mind going blank, time slipped away from him again as he stayed there, opening his eyes when Gregory came through the office door. Leaning forward and slipping out his pocket watch, he let out a long sigh when he realised it was nearly three thirty. 

          “Hey, got us some sandwiches, if you’re hungry. Are you alright?” Gregory paused at the door, his voice soft as the politician just gave him a small smile. “Let’s go eat on the balcony, it’s nice out there and we can get some air.” Ignoring the question of being alright. They walked up stairs in silence, Gregory following behind him as they made their way to the terrace, having grabbed a few items from the kitchen, like dishes and some light wine to drink. 

           “I trust that my team has helped with your move and you are settled in?” It was the first thing Mycroft had said in hours, breaking their silence as they sat at the table, their food plated and wine poured. As always, he waited for the other to take his first bite before picking up the sandwich. Typically, he did not eat anything with his hands, especially not in public, but he was at home, and it was a nice gesture for Gregory to bring them something to eat. “I also heard that you were able to meet with some of the security team that resides in the surrounding flats. I trust that they were amicable?” Mycroft always paid for housing for his team, knowing it would be unfair to ask them to live in specific locations without picking up the tab. It was one of the many perks that came from working in his office.

           “Yeah, they did. Ron drove me. Christian, Wayne and Sean came around too and introduced themselves, as well as helping a bit with sorting boxes. They all speak really highly of you, make me wish I tried a bit hard in school instead of screwing around the way I did so I could have gone higher.” You could feel the tension in the room, most of it having settled on Mycroft's shoulders during the morning while focusing on work. “You should get a pet. You’re too lonely here, even when I’m away just for a bit. I’d say a dog, but I can feel the oncoming eye roll so I won’t go there,” Gregory teased lightly, but it only brought a frown to the politician’s features. 

           Where had that comment come from, and why was he now on about him getting a pet? Mycroft had never been someone to have a pet. Even if he was a cat person, it was other’s cats, not his own. The idea of having to be responsible for an animal with his hectic work schedule seemed like a terrible idea. 

           “I appreciate you try to… well… I’m not sure what you are going for, but I do not think a pet would be the best. My work schedule and demand for trips abroad for long periods of time would lead to a neglected animal, and I could not in good conscious take that on, knowing it would spend most of its time alone, or boarded.” Sherlock had mentioned that before, something about goldfish. “I’m not lonely, Gregory. I prefer solitude. Most times people can be dull and frustrating.” Well that sentence seemed more like Sherlock than him. He usually felt this way, but typically would not voice such opinions. The pain he had from their chat earlier had been brooding all day, sitting deep within him and was now coming back as frustration and a short temper. Mycroft was hurt, that was clear, but it wasn't fair to take it out on the other because he was on edge. “I’m sorry Gregory, I’m just feeling a tad off. I am probably not the best person to be around when I get into these sorts of moods.” 

           “Well, this is when I should apologise for overwhelming you, then you say I’m not most people and that you didn’t mean it like that, and we finish our lunch in an even more awkward silence than before because you  _ are  _ lonely, just not in the sense that everyone usually means, but you’re too proud to admit that to anyone but Anthea because only she will understand. But look what it has done for Sherlock, and I feel like we’ve had this exact same conversation before and now my head really hurts.” Gregory managed to spew out, his speed picking up as he kept going, barely stopping to take a breath. 

           “I’m not lonely, I’m  _ frustrated _ , there is a difference.” The other was going as if he knew him, as if he could tell what he was thinking, and it was not helping in any sense. At first, he was heartbroken, upset that the other knew the truth and that it hadn’t been an instant fix. Now though, it was anger and frustration. Mycroft was still upset, but he was frustrated because the other was recalling all of these memories, footing around the house as if he knew him. That might have been fine, but the problem was that Gregory didn’t know him, hardly a thing about him at all. All he could manage was a few small memories, and it was dizzying to jump back and forth between the two realities. Mycroft didn’t want to be mad at the other, but he had been aching for months, knowing Gregory was right there, but still wasn’t his. 

           “I remember when we first got a home in Nice, I think, or just outside of it. I use to tease you because of how formal you spoke, and then you cursed at me and I couldn’t stop laughing for five minutes. That’s when I told you that I loved you.” Mycroft’s ranting in his head stopped dead when he heard the other talk about Nice, telling him that he loved him. 

          “Gregory, you are treading on some mighty thin ice.” He warned, knowing he would not be able to take the other saying those words to him if there was no way they could be true. Mycroft closed his eyes as silence fell over them, working on calming his frustration, knowing it wasn’t Gregory’s fault, but it was still difficult. After a few moments, Gregory spoke again. 

          “Would you rather me come back later?” Mycroft didn’t respond, just clenched his jaw and let out a long sigh, knowing it would be better to say nothing at all if it wasn’t going to be very kind. “What can I do to make this better?”  _ Maybe stop pretending to know our history, stop pretending that you know who I am, that you care for me as I do you, stop pretending this will all work when you just said you couldn’t do this right now. _ This is why he always preferred to keep the past a secret until they were far enough along in their relationship that this wouldn’t occur. Gregory was saying all of these things, but they felt hollow, and it wasn’t fair for Mycroft to expect instant love, as that wasn’t how it worked, but it also wasn’t fair to toy with his emotions. 

          “I’m not sure there is anything you can do, Gregory.” The other nodded slowly, looking back out at the city and finally letting silence fall between them. It seemed like hours before there was a chime from the other’s mobile, and he was standing and collecting his dishes. 

          “I got a call, I’ll… um… talk to you tomorrow I guess,” Gregory picked his things up and left, leaving Mycroft alone with his thoughts, something he could get lost in for hours, even days. It was one of the few things he had in common with his brother, very few things could pull them out of their thoughts. Even the Gregory speaking barely registered with him.

          The sun had set and Mycroft was still out on the terrace, his hands in a steeple under his chin as he looked out to the London skyline, barely noticing that there was movement next to him. 

          “Mycroft,” It was a soft voice, close to his ear, with a warm hand on his shoulder. He hadn’t realised how cold it had actually gotten until he felt that warmth, turning towards the other with a tired expression. Anthea had let herself in, and more than likely Ryan was there as well, having come to check on him when he didn’t respond to what might be a multitude of messages on his mobile. “How about you come inside, Ryan is starting a fire, you must be freezing. Veni dilecte,”  _ Come, dear friend.  _ She brought another hand to his shoulder, moving him up, and then placing her arm around his waist as he stood. They walked down stairs, and Mycroft noted what time it was, coming close to midnight as they made their way to the living room. Ryan had already lit the fire and was cleaning his dishes from lunch. There was a low growl in his stomach, seeing as he hadn’t eaten since three, but that wasn’t the first time he had gone so long without food. “I’m going to get you something to drink, okay? We brought dinner over, I feared you hadn’t been eating. Afterwards, we can talk, yeah?” Anthea stood in front of him now, having seated himself on the closest couch to the fire, a blanket over his knees. 

*****

           She had seen this before, how Mycroft could slip into these catatonic moods where nothing seemed to stir him, and it never due to something good. When he hadn’t responded to any of her messages in over four hours, she had started to worry. Making her way through the house with familiarity, she found Ryan in the kitchen, already starting to unpack the dinner they had brought over. Anthea knew the typical meal was far too heavy for this time of night, but a good soup, would bring him out of his stupor. This one was his particular favourite, one his mom used to make when he was little. Barley, split peas, lentils, chickpeas, fennel, celery seeds, leeks and cabbage, all brewed in a broth that was seasoned with salt, oregano, fish sauce, dill and olive oil. She had spent the evening making it, keeping it warm in a thermos so it would be fresh when they brought it over. Moving through the kitchen, Anthea brought out the bowls, grabbing silverware and a couple glasses to they could plate the meal. 

           “I have a feeling that this has to do with Gregory again, but much less with what he has done, but what he can’t do,” She muttered softly, noting that the man in question was nowhere to be found. “You remember Morocco right?” Looking up to Ryan, she could see the understanding in his face, as they had experienced something similar at one point. “He’ll need us tonight, more than normal. This is new for him.” It didn’t take them long to get everything on a tray and bring it to the lounge, setting everything out and pulling the small stands from the cupboard so they could eat at a proper height instead of sipping from the coffee table. “Mycroft... Ryan and I, we made you soup, your favourite. Please, you need to eat, and don’t protest, because you know that won’t work.” She kept her voice soft and gentle as she set his food down, giving a small sigh when she saw he was still lost somewhere in his thoughts. “My,” Reaching out, she placed her hand on his cheek, getting his attention and smiling. “Carissimi, vos manducare,”  _ Dear, you have to eat.  _ Cooking him food from his childhood, speaking it Latin, it always brought him out slowly. Watching as he gave a small nod and sat forward, taking a sip of the soup one small spoonful at a time. They would spend the rest of the evening like this, bringing him back, figuring out why he went there in the first place, and comforting him. 

          Anthea spent the night with Ryan in the guest suite below, not having gone to bed till close to three in the morning. Ryan had got up early to be with Mycroft, Anthea dealing with the work that he would have done that morning, making sure everything was in place for his absence. By mid-afternoon, they had a light lunch and she pulled Ryan aside, telling him she had to step out but hopefully wouldn’t be too long. 

          “Please, watch him. He can’t be alone right now, I’ll be back as soon as I can, but if anything happens, call me, and I will come home immediately,” Standing on her toes, Anthea placed a light kiss on his lips before leaving, taking the black car in the garage and heading towards the NSY. 


	9. VIII

          It was messy, to say the least, but Greg’s pride kept him from contacting Sherlock for help on the scene they currently stood at, even though he had learned quickly that this was the type that Sherlock adored. He eventually called it for the evening, having collected every bit of evidence they could. He hadn’t even realised the time until he got back into his car and noted that it was inching towards midnight. Sighing, Greg picked up his phone, not surprised, but a bit hurt that he hadn’t heard anything from Mycroft. Returning to the safe house, he immediately dropped into bed, falling asleep quickly but not particularly well, only to find himself awake again with the sun and getting dressed to head back to the office and throw himself at his work. It was what he was used to doing, focusing on what he could do and what he was good at. It calmed him to slowly put the pieces together and solve the puzzle that was laid out in front of him. By mid-afternoon, Greg had done everything he could, sending out a handful of samples to the labs with a list of suspects. They would most likely be whittled down to their final one when the results came in. Ignoring the nag of hunger in the pit of his stomach, Greg finished off the last of his tepid coffee before deciding to turn to the pile of paperwork on his desk. He only responded with a slight grunt when he heard a knock on his doorframe, knowing that if it was someone on his team, they would know just to leave him alone unless it was absolutely necessary for them to bother him. 

          “Gregory,” the voice was familiar, and looking up he was greeted by Anthea. Not saying a word, Greg returned his attention to the paperwork, finishing the line he was on before sitting back and listening to what she had to say. “I’m not here to off you, before you start to panic or do anything rash. I just want to talk. Mycroft isn’t doing very well. It has taken Ryan and I till the early hours of this morning to even get him to talk or eat. I know he was cross with you, and may have said some nasty things, but I want to help. Ryan and I had the same thing happen, years ago, so I think we might be able to give both of you some insight.” Greg wanted to argue with her, just to get the anger and frustration out that he felt every time he thought about the night before, but that would be pointless. Hearing that she and her husband had gone through the same thing helped, at least giving him a bit of hope that it could be sorted out. “He’s hurt, and I know you are hurting too. He’s never told you about the history you two possess until sometime after you had been together. I know this time it didn’t pan out like he planned, in more ways than one, but he’s fighting himself here. You are recently, and I stress recently, separated from your wife and I know you need time, he does too… but it’s hard for him to have you remember the past and speak about the fond memories, and without being head over heels like you normally are. 

          “I told him I wanted to take it slow, to make sure I didn’t treat him like a rebound. Instead, he offered for me to move in with him! So I left after breakfast to unpack at the safe house, and when I came back for lunch like he wanted, it was like everything had changed. He barely talked to me, and was angry that I was there, and said he wanted to be alone. You don’t think it’s hard for me too?” Greg asked, so beyond angry now that he just felt exhausted speaking. “Mycroft is the one thing that makes everything in my head makes sense, and now he bloody resents me for it. I know I don’t remember enough to stay with him, we both do. I can’t even explain what it’s like to know that I have to die in order to have a chance at real happiness. Do you have any idea of how messed up that can make you feel?” Greg challenged, dragging his hands over his face with a heavy sigh. She probably did just as much as he tried to understand what it would be like to be in Mycroft’s shoes, but that wasn’t the point. “I want to do this right, but I can’t. There isn’t a right way, and every time he gets mad at me, for not loving him like he thinks I should, I just want to scream that he loves a former me, and not  _ me.  _ They’re all a past version of who I have been. I don’t know what he wants from me, Anthea! If I knew who I was, then I could at least try, but I don’t, and I don’t want to hurt him, but no matter what, I do. We’re too stubborn in the wrong way, we go against each other too much.” 

          “Gregory, Mycroft loves you. More than you can possibly imagine. This you, past you, they are the same. I know you may be trying to remember everything from the past, but believe me when I say no amount of trying will get you there. Ryan always explains that it was like a light switch. All of the sudden, it was there... nothing came gradually. He was like you though, always remembering memories here and there, but never enough, until one day, it just clicked. Do not give up hope that you can still make it work this time around, because this is the most I’ve seen you remember. You are who you are, and all your hobbies, small quirks, things you like, dislike, they all carry. It’s not like I’ve met seventeen different versions of my husband, just the same one over and over again. Mycroft might surprise you, he may know more about you than you know yourself.” Her hand was on his knee, trying to provide some comfort, and as much as he wanted to fight it, Greg was just tired and wanted things to just be easy for once. “He’s a stubborn one, you’re right. Have you tried talking to him about this? Don’t ask him if he wants to talk, don’t give him a chance to think, just do it. You don’t have to worry about treating him like a rebound, because all he wants is you and I’m 100% positive there is no one else for you but him. Now, you are working yourself to death. Come back to the house, have a good chat with him, and do not let him close up on you. He will try, but don’t let him. Do  _ whatever  _ is necessary you hear me?” 

          Greg sighed but nodded, knowing better than to fight with Anthea. The DI packed up his work and followed the other woman out of his office, pausing long enough to lock up and tell Donovan to keep him posted on the lab results. Once they were in the car, Greg leaned against the door as they merged into rush hour traffic, the events of the last forty eight hours catching up with him and putting him to sleep against the window. 

> _ It was hot, stupidly so, and they were surrounded by sand. Greg was hovering nervously over a younger looking man with ginger curls, which Mycroft hated when his hair reverted to being a mass of curls like his brother’s. Others were laying damp cloths over his arms and neck, speaking in one language to Anthea, who then spoke it another to him. He didn’t understand any of it now, but he must have then because he was flooded with relief, and once the others had left, having given instructions for Mycroft to rest and only eat small amounts throughout the afternoon, Greg carefully climbed into bed with his husband. Putting his hand on Mycroft’s shoulder and gently brush his hair back to how he preferred to wear it, Greg murmured his love first in Latin, then Greek, Aramaic and finally Egyptian, grinning at the shaky smile that spread across Mycroft’s face as he tried to comfort the other as he fell asleep.  _

          Greg woke with a soft grunt as the car came to a stop, looking up at the manor and rubbing his face to try and wake up before climbing out of the car after Anthea. Mumbling his thanks to the driver, Greg wiped a bit of drool from the corner of his mouth as he made his way inside, frowning at the sight of a nearly catatonic looking Mycroft sitting on the couch, with a man he could only assume was Ryan. Waving a tiny hello, Ryan immediately standing to give them some privacy, taking Anthea’s hand with a fond smile as they left. Chewing his lip for a moment, Greg threw caution to the wind and kneeled down in front of the other, pulling him into a tight hug against his chest. 

          “I’m not going to stop until you return this hug, so you might as well make it less awkward. You’re stuck with me. Get used to my bad and poorly timed puns, and off key singing, because that’s me, and according to Anthea… that’s always been me, so if you’re not used to it after a thousand years, then it sure sucks to be you now don’t it?” Greg smiled when Mycroft finally came out of his little world. Greg turned just enough to kiss the top of his head while gently rubbing his back in wide lazy arcs. Arms wrapped around his waist, hesitantly at first. Greg almost missed the other speak, Mycroft’s voice so soft. 

          “I tried to have a word with the nuns in Spain when she got you started on that nasty habit,” A wide smiled spread across Greg’s face as he heard the pun, holding the other closer as they sat there, continuing to rub his back. “Thank you for coming back. I’m so sorry I was terribly mean. I told you, I’m not a pleasant person when I get in those moods. I know better to than to think I’ll let off the hook this easily, so tell me, so what did Anthea say to do?” 

          “She told me to just talk and not give you a choice about it or let you think, so that’s what I’m going to do and you’ll just have to contend with it.” Greg said softly, combing his fingers through Mycroft’s hair as he did his best to collect his thoughts. “I’m scared right now, mostly because my life is falling apart, but it’s not at the same time. My wife’s cheating on me, but knowing her, she’ll just disappear because she’d rather be estranged than divorced, but you’re here, so… it’s a trust fall. One massive trust fall, like we did off a ladder in Academy, only I ended up in the A&E because they didn’t catch me right and I got three stitches in my head.” Greg tried to explain, smirking at the memory. “I want to trust you My, and I do, but I have to learn to trust myself too. I’m going to mess up, and I’m sure I have before, but I just… I need you. I told Anthea that you’re the only one that makes things make sense, and it’s true. I know you know me, but I’m still learning about you, and I’m going to balk sometimes because this whole thing is all sorts of weird, but I want to do this. So just… let me mess up, but please don’t lock up on me again, okay?” Greg asked, gently pulling Mycroft back to hold his gaze, brushing his thumbs over the man’s cheeks to push away the tear. “It’s going to be alright, I promise.” 

          “As long as you promise not to hold back either. I felt so unsure yesterday, that you didn’t want this, that you might go back to her, that I would lose you again. Only this time, it wasn’t because death took you from me, someone else did. I can’t lose you like that, I want you, all of you, bad puns and mistakes included. I know you wouldn’t hurt me intentionally, so please, don’t… just don’t hold back.” Before Greg could say anything back, Mycroft had leaned in and pressed him into a heated kiss, moving off the couch to sit on his knees in front of him, and wrapping his arms around him. He hadn’t expected the other to kiss him, but he was more surprised by the passion behind it, or the near desperation in his hold as he returned the kiss, trying to take control of it, if for no other reason than to calm Mycroft down. 

          “Come here, we’re too old to be on the floor like this… well… I’m too old, you don’t count.” Greg murmured when he finally broke their kiss, smirking over at the other man as they moved back to the sofa, still clinging to one another as they sat. “I won’t hold back from you, or at least, I’ll try my absolute best not to, My, promise. That being said, I don’t have any memories of getting walked in on by Anthea, and I’d very much like to keep it that way, so let’s at least wait until they go?” He grinned, leaning over to kiss Mycroft again on his forehead, then each cheek after wiping it dry with his fingers, and finally, his lips. “There are still parts that I need to get used to, that I want to take slow, but that’s not…  _ this.  _ It’s living here, and letting someone else take care of me. You dote, and I’m not used to that. You live a completely different life than I’m used to and that takes time, but I won’t hold back with us.” Greg promised, smiling to Mycroft and hoping he would understand the difference. 

          “Well, she was only going to stay until we had made up,” Mycroft’s voice was soft as he smiled up at the other, still holding tightly to Greg. “I’m so very sorry my dear, I was afraid you didn’t want any of this, at least not yet, and that’s why I told you off this morning. I should not have shut you out. Take as long as you need in that flat, like I stated before, it is yours. This is most use it has received in over a decade. Also, if I am ever doing too much, please tell me to piss off if needed,” Greg laughed at the thought of having permission to tell Mycroft to piss off, a tiny part of him wanting to do just that in front of his security team, to see what their reactions would be. Mycroft moved to stand, taking him along and threading their arms together, a soft smile on his face. 

          “Shall we see them off?” Mycroft questioned, waiting for Greg to respond. He knew full well that when they were gone, it meant more was to come, and he was torn between being excited and turned on, a tad nervous as he had never been with another man. Giving the other a small nod, Greg leaned in and planted a soft kiss on the man’s lips before pulling back with a smile. 

          “Yes, lets.” 

*****

          Walking through the door to the office where Anthea and Ryan were sitting, Mycroft stopped as they looked to them both, a smile on Anthea’s face as she saw they were arm in arm. 

         “Thank you my dear, as always. I don’t know where I would be without either of you,” He smiled, holding a hand out and giving her hand a small squeeze. “I think Gregory can take over from here,” There was a wink he hid from the man beside him, directed towards Anthea, that she picked up on right away. 

         “Of course,” She gave Mycroft a knowing smile before walking up and giving him a warm hug, kissing his cheek and turning to do the same with Gregory. There was something she whispered to the other that he didn’t quite make out, but the blush on the man’s cheeks gave him of an idea. Mycroft saw the two of them out through the foyer, locking the door when he saw they were in the car and turning back to find Gregory. Walking up behind him, Mycroft wrapped his arms around the man’s waist, bending down to ghost his lips over his neck, placing small kisses on that beautiful skin. 

         “I’ve had dreams about us, always thought they were just fantasies. Bit odd to realise that my sex dreams are memories,” Greg admitted, just loud enough to be heard before turning towards Mycroft, running his hands over his chest and under his suspenders, guiding them off his shoulders. “Certainly got me through puberty though,” Leaning in close, Mycroft nipped at the man’s ear as his hands traced down Gregory’s side, purring as he licked and nibbled at the sensitive skin. 

         “If I do recall, you are too old to do such activities on the floor. Shall we move to the bedroom?” Mycroft purred, nuzzling the spot where his neck and shoulder came together, sucking on the skin to leave a mark just under the collar. He really wanted to cover the other in marks, bites, and evidence that he was his and no one else’s, but that would only earn his lover a bit of teasing from his colleagues. Instead, Mycroft decided he would explore every inch of this new body, savour their ‘first’ time together, and committing every second of it to memory. “If you don’t make a decision soon, I will take you on those stairs,” That was more of a threat, his voice dark and lust filled. It got the other moving though, up to the top floor and through his bedroom door. “Now, let’s give you some new memories for when I’m not around,” Mycroft purred like a cat, sauntering over and pinning the man against the wall, those hands above his head and their hips against one another. He let out a moan when he could feel the effect he was having on Gregory, rocking his hips and claiming those lips with a starving hunger. 

         “Christ My,” Gregory whispered, tilting his head to the side to bare his neck, Mycroft taking full advantage by licking and sucking that sensitive spot again. 

         “Mmm, yes my love?” Mycroft purred, tasting every inch and moving a hand to tug at the hem of the other’s shirt that was tucked into his trousers. Pulling it free, he skillfully undid the buttons, moving down to kiss the flesh as it was revealed, stopping when he exposed the man’s nipple, lapping, sucking and biting to make the other wriggle and moan. God, hearing those noises was like music to his ears. “You are delicious Gregory, I could spend all day just enjoying your delicious skin.” Slipping his hand under the fabric once the last button had been undone, Mycroft pushed the offending shirt aside and ran his fingers down the man’s side before placing his hands on Gregory’s hips. 

          “Gonna mess my pants and it’ll be all your fault,” Gregory complained softly as Mycroft trailed his kisses south, his tongue dipping in the other’s navel before following the trail of hair that lead south.

          “I can only imagine how  _ this _ will taste,” Mycroft groaned, running a hand over the bulge growing in the man’s trousers, his other hand making sure the silver fox didn’t fall from weak knees. “May I?” The question was more of a formality, knowing Gregory would say yes, but wanting to tease him a little longer. Looking to the other through his lashes, Mycroft licked his lips and gave the other a sinful smirk. 

          “I… we… um, condom. I haven’t… with everything…” Mycroft didn’t even need to ask why, just nodded and moved to grab a packet from his bed side table, not leaving the others side for more than a second, desperate to get his mouth on him. Later he could ask if Gregory if he would like to get privately tested, knowing that his team would be discrete and have the results within a couple hours for them, but for now, he wanted to focus on them. Mycroft ripped the packet open with his teeth and took the condom out, popping it between his teeth with the bubble facing in. It only took a few seconds to free Gregory’s prick, holding the base of his cock before sliding the condom on with his mouth, hollowing his cheeks and sucking as he pulled back up, giving Gregory a few small licks before pulling off to look up at the other. 

          “Definitely hope this is the last time, because  _ this,  _ my dear,” Mycroft gave the man a smirk and licked a stripe from top to bottom. “Is sinfully delicious, and to my luck, there is  _ a lot _ ,” He chuckled before taking the tip into his mouth, teasing with small licks, focusing on the glands. The noises that Gregory was making only fueled him further, Mycroft’s hands firmly pressing his lover against the wall so he wouldn’t fall. 

          “God, fuck, My, I need you,” Gregory whimpered, a hand now resting on the back of his head, trembling as the other continued his attentions on the man’s cock. “Just like that, My. Your mouth is perfect, I’m already gonna come, fuck.” There was a familiar pulse when Gregory was going to finish, the man attempting to pull back, but Mycroft wasn’t having any of it, planning to take some of the edge off, so he could focus on savouring the man without worrying about holding him off. Mycroft sucked the man down to his base, the tip of his cock hitting the back of his throat as he swallowed, and that was all it took to have Gregory hissing and shaking, his legs giving out under him, as the orgasm ripped through him. 

          “Sorry my dear, I wasn’t going to let this be the only thing we do, I have plans to make you come at least twice tonight,” Licking his lips, Mycroft carefully maneuvered to stand while holding onto the other, helping him up as he gave him a soft kiss on the lips. 

          “That was amazing,” Gregory panted, his breathing starting to slow as he regained a regular pattern, his skin covered in a sheen of sweat. 

          “Now, let’s move you to the bed, I will disposed of this,” Mycroft moved and gently took the condom off, tying it in a knot and looking back to the other. As Gregory lay down, he moved to the bathroom and tossed the rubber, grabbing a bottle of lube before returning back out. “I would say I have the advantage here, but you are naked and I am still fully clothed. Mind helping me out, or do I have to do this all by myself?” The politician gave a fake pout, smiling a he saw the look on the other’s face before moving up to stand by him. 

          “Something tells me you  _ always _ have the advantage,” Greg murmured, pulling Mycroft’s shirt tails from his trousers and slowly undoing each button of his shirt. “You might be able to keep going, but I’ve got to reset here mate, so… now, I get to have  _ this _ to myself,” Teasing him, Greg tossed his button down and undershirt to the side, spreading his hands over Mycroft’s chest, and brushing his fingers through the soft tuffs of ginger hair on his chest, leaning in to capture his lips in a searing kiss. Mycroft let out a small whimper when Gregory decided to take complete control.

          “You are the only one who could make me lose it, and I would give it to you every time if you asked,” Trails of heat were left by the Gregory’s hands as they explored, Mycroft’s attention following them, up until he started to speak again.

          “I don’t know about my past lives, but a nice trick of working as a homicide detective is I’ve long since lose my gag reflex, want to see?” A deep moan ripped through his chest at the thought, especially with that man now on his knees in front of him, his hot breath ghosting through the thin fabric of his trousers. 

          “My god Gregory, those things you say, so delicious.” Mycroft wasn’t so sure he’d be able to stand though, and having just come down from his high, Gregory might not be able to hold him up. “I’d very much like to see, but unless you want to carry me from the start, might we move to the bed love?” Of course, every word was gasped through clenched teeth, his eyes fluttering at the friction Gregory was giving him through his trousers. Whimpering and bucking his hips, Mycroft carded a shaky hand through those silver locks as the man did away with the last bit of clothing he had and licked a stripe up his cock. 

          “I have a feeling there’s going to be a lot of practice in our future as I relearn this.” Head thrown back and eyes shut, Mycroft almost cried when he felt the other pull away, standing and pulling him towards the bed. 

          “I will let you practice every day as long as it’s with me,” Mycroft’s voice was pleading, laying back on the bed, and propping up on his elbows as he looked down to the other through lust blown eyes. “Fuck,” he hissed, biting his lower lip as the other bobbed all the way down, his cock hitting the back of the man’s throat as he swallowed around him. Mycroft never swore, except during appropriate circumstances,  _ this _ being one of them. “Gregory, please, yes, that is perfect, yes, your mouth, please,” He was reduced to a babbling mess in seconds, wondering what the other was talking about when he said he would have to practice, he was fantastic. It didn’t take long before Mycroft could feel the heat coiling tight in his stomach, knowing he would be undone with just a few more bobs. “Gregory, please, fuck, I’m so close, yes, love please.” Mycroft wasn’t sure if the other was going to finish him off in his mouth, seeing as this was his first time and it could be a bit much if you weren’t expecting it. Gregory took everything that came with what seemed like ease, swallowing him down before moving to lay next to him. 

          “So, safe to say I didn’t mess up too much?” Gregory looked absolutely debouched, his lips nice and pink from being stretched around his prick, his eyes blown wide with desire and his tanned skinned christened with sweat from their heated activities. 

          “My dear, if you hadn’t said a word, I would have assumed you’ve been sucking cock for a thousand years,” Mycroft chuckled, a bit out of breath, but still wanting more. “Don’t get too comfortable though, I still have more to give, I just… need a minute to get my legs back under me,” Mycroft smiled, his hand reaching out to grab the others, leaning over and kissing him on the lips, tasting himself as he lazily explored the other’s mouth. “Maybe, if we are lucky, the mind blowing sex will bring back your memories,” He teased, feeling a tad euphoric as he placed a few pecks on the Gregory’s cheeks, feeling the man next to him start to stir ever so slightly. 

          “Well, according to Anthea, I have been. As far as getting my memories back, I certainly wouldn’t mind trying.” Chuckling, Mycroft leaned over and caged the other in his arms, putting a little more energy into the kisses, nipping and sucking on Gregory’s lower lip. 

          “Scoot up on the bed please,” Mycroft purred, making his way down again and grabbing the lube that was sitting on the bedside table. “I have a treat for you,” Giving the other a devious smirk, he settled between the others legs, and placing a pillow under Gregory’s hips and laying the man’s legs over his shoulders. He started slow, kissing the inside of the man’s thighs and making his way up, his hands moving to separate Gregory’s cheeks and taking one last look before licking a slow strip up his cleft. Mycroft skipped over the entrance, listening as Gregory let out a delicious moan. Mycroft remembered the first time Gregory had introduced him to something like this, thinking it was rather dirty, but quickly finding out why others enjoyed it. Dipping his head back down again, he swirled his tongue around the edge of the pucker, slowly making his way to the center before pushing it in, moving it around and then starting the process all over again. 

          “Mycroft, please, I need you. I want to have you inside me, to feel you, please. If you don’t stop right now, I’m going to come all over myself and I don’t want to wait again. Fuck me, please,” Oh, he was so responsive and verbal and he loved every bit of it. Continuing his work, Mycroft gave a small smirk when the other started to beg, his hips bucking and his hands scrambling for purchase. Pulling away and grabbing the tube of lube, he poured a generous amount on his fingers, slicking them up the man’s arse and finding that small hole again. 

          “Mmm, you might have to be more patient love, if I do as you ask, I’m afraid you will never want to do this again,” One hand reached up to grasp the base of Gregory’s weeping cock, squeezing down to stave off his orgasm, while the other hand pressed a finger slowly in up to the first knuckle, hearing Gregory gasp at the intrusion. 

          “Ah… I’m trying,” Gregory hissed, relaxing a tad, but still feeling rather tight. 

          “Shhh, love. Don’t fight it, just relax. If you don’t, this won’t be pleasant.” Kissing the man’s thighs, Mycroft waited until he felt the muscles relax, before moving the finger, working it in and out, over and over till he was able to slide in another, scissoring the man open. If Gregory was this vocal and responsive to just his tongue and fingers, Mycroft couldn’t wait to have him on his cock. “You are sinfully hot and tight, Gregory, and I can feel how much you want this.” After a few minutes, he was able to slip a third finger in, turning it upwards to lightly skate over the man’s sweet spot, giving him a small taste of what was yet to come. 

          “Christ, Mycroft, God, right there. Again, fuck, please, just like that, just, right-” Gregory babbled, his voice cutting off when Mycroft’s fingers pressed against that spot again, leaving the man breathless and writhing under him. “My, please, please, I’m ready, I want to feel you fuck me.” God, he loved hearing Gregory beg, those words falling from his lips without any hesitation, just asking for more. It was perfect. Mycroft grabbed the bottle, and poured a tad more lube on his aching cock. Rubbing it all over, he made sure to coat himself thoroughly before lining up, the tip of his cock pressed against the man’s entrance. 

          “As you wish darling,” Mycroft purred, moving to push in slowly, stopping after he got through the first ring of muscle, a deep moan ripping through his chest. “God Gregory, you are deliciously tight, and so very hot,” Mycroft groaned, watching as Gregory stilled, his jaw slack and his eyes rolling back as he felt the intrusion. Waiting until the other gave him a small nod,he slowly started pushing further in, watching as inch by inch his cock slowly disappeared into the other man, the heat enveloping him. The sensation was far better than he remembered, and it only took a moment longer before he bottomed out, his cock fully sheathed inside the other. Leaning forward, Mycroft peppered kisses over the man’s neck, jaw, and cheek, his arms caging him as he waited. “Beautiful, absolutely beautiful. My kind, caring, amazing, brilliant man. Gregory, my love, my life.” Mycroft whispered between kisses, holding the man as he buried his head in the crick of his neck, sucking a few new marks into that delicious skin.   

          “Mycroft,” The voice was just a whisper, Gregory’s hand reaching up to comb through his hair, his breathing ragged and those legs snaking around his waist. “I could finish, just like this, but…” his silver fox admitted with a soft laugh, those muscles starting to relax as Mycroft continued his work over the man’s neck. “Move for me, My. I want to feel it. I’m yours now.” 

          “Yes, mine.” Mycroft practically growled as he moved his hips out and back again, taking it slow and using all his self control to not just snap them back in and go hard and fast. Moving back a tad, he looked into Gregory’s eyes, his hands cradling the man’s face, thumbs brushing against his cheekbones. Mycroft could spend eternity just like this, watching the expressions of love and pleasure flit across the man’s face, his stomach fluttering at the sight below him. “So beautiful. Gorgeous man. Fuck, you feel so good, yes, Gregory,” Muttering, Mycroft continued at a slow pace, brushing past the man’s prostate and feeling him clench around him. After a few moments it was apparent that this slow pace wasn’t going to be enough, his speed picking up and his breathing growing more erratic. The air was filled with moans, hisses, as well as the sound of skin against skin as they set the pace, quickly chasing their oragasms. Mycroft sunk his teeth into Gregory’s shoulder, not hard, but enough that he heard the other moan under him. “Yes, Gregory, ah, you feel, yes, good, fuck, so tight, you feel so go,” He was losing control, his hips and movements becoming more erratic as he continued, trying to hold on until the other had finished. 

          “Don’t stop My, I’m going to come, don’t stop, use me, fuck, Mycroft please,” Gregory whimpered, falling apart. Mycroft tried desperately to hold on as he wrapped his arms around the other and pressed them close. Moving so that he hit the man’s prostate again, Gregory came crashing around him. It was all Mycroft needed, feeling the other clench around him, those muscles clamping down around him, over and over again, driving him over the edge. Mycroft thrust one last time, his hips stalling as he was washed over with pleasure. After a few moments, he gingerly pulled out, laying down at Gregory’s side and slinging a possessive arm over the man’s chest. It was something he would never admit, but he rather liked to cuddle and be close after having, usually ending with him falling asleep. On his own, Mycroft never slept very well, but with Gregory by his side, he slept like a baby. 

          “I hope that for your first time, it was rather enjoyable,” Mycroft’s voice sounded sleepy, giving a small yawn before wrapping his arm tighter around the other and burying his face in the other’s neck. 

          “That was… yeah,” Gregory mumbled, his breathing slowly reaching a normal rhythm. “Enjoyable is an understatement, that was amazing.” Mycroft chuckled, looking to Gregory as he had a wide grin spreading across his face like a child on Christmas. “We’ll need a shower. Later. Can’t really move right now.” Those rough hands were at his chin now, gently guiding his gaze upwards so Gregory could place a soft kiss on his lips. 

          “Mmm, yes. Shower, that sounds nice…” Mycroft groaned, leaning into the touch and smiling, but making no attempt to move. It only felt like a few minutes that he had dozed off. Waking with a jolt, he noticed the heat next to him was gone. Stretching, he let out a stiff grunt before sitting up, looking around the room and wondering where Gregory had gone off to. Looking around for his mobile, he hit the home button, looking at the screen and noting that he had dozed off for only a half an hour. Standing up and rubbing a hand over his face, Mycroft made his way towards the bathroom, leaning against the jamb and smiling to the man who was at his sink, still relatively naked. “Good evening Gregory. This is a very nice sight to wake up to.” He chuckled, moving to stand behind the other and wrapping his arms around the man’s waste. 

          “Didn’t mean to wake you, just really had to take a leak,” Gregory apologised, leaning into his touch and laying his head back on Mycroft’s shoulder.

          “How about that shower now,” Mycroft’s voice was soft as he peppered a few kisses along the back of Gregory’s neck, slowly slipping away to turn on the shower, feeling the water to make sure it was nice and warm before reaching back to grab the other’s hand and pull him under the stream with him. “Get you cleaned up and then we can figure out what to cook for dinner.” 

          “I could make pancakes, or french toast. There’s probably nothing French about it, but it still tastes delicious and is easy to make,” Gregory offered, grabbing the soap and lathering it between his hands before running them over his chest. “My treat. You definitely did the majority of the work this time.” 

          “It’s not work if I enjoy it,” Mycroft closed his eyes, loving the feeling of those strong and rough hands roaming over him, full of tenderness and love. “Breakfast for dinner actually sounds rather enticing, especially if that means you will be back in the kitchen.” As he let those hands roam, Mycroft rinsed himself off before lathering his own up to take his turn. He moved his hands down that toned body that was fit from years of legwork at the New Scotland Yard. “If it were safe, I would say that the rest of the evening should be spent without clothes, but cooking without sounds rather dangerous. We don’t need to mar your perfect skin with oil burns or anything of the sort.” Mycroft worked his hands over Gregory’s back, running down his spine and rubbing his thumbs into that perfect arse. “Maybe later tonight, if I am lucky, there will be dessert for us as well. Food or otherwise, it is your choice. A chance for you to do some work?” He teased, nipping at the man’s neck as he smoothed his hands over the other’s stomach and chest. 

          “You’re not one I would have ever thought would want to go at each other like teenagers.” Gregory chuckled, grinning up at Mycroft when he frowned, kissing him to push that away. “I’m teasing, not complaining. I’d very much like to stay the night tonight, so don’t start worrying.” 

          “I didn’t realise that wanting to have your love after nearly eighty years of celibacy, counted as acting like a randy teenager,” Mycroft stated, rather matter of fact. Then of course, Gregory chuckled and moved in, pressing him against the cold tiles as he hissed, the man kissing him everywhere. 

          “I’m a very physical learner, you know. I think you should show me how to do it all again, just to make sure I have it down before I give it my all.” 

          “A-as in now?” Mycroft stuttered, arms settling on the man’s arse, allowing the other to shower him in attention. “This better be our last time around, because if not, I will severely miss this body. Your handsome face, this gorgeous silver hair, and for someone that had just been teasing me about going at it like rabbits, you sure are eager,” Perhaps it was because the Mrs. never wanted it any more, or he didn’t want it from her, or any combination. Gregory might have been going for quite some time, but nothing compared to eighty years. Mycroft’s thoughts were reeling, his attentions on the man’s lips that were ghosting over his skin, and on the thought of if they were doing this now or later, or both. He was sure Gregory could tell he was on overload as the man took a small step backwards, still keeping him on the tile, but observing his expressions with a bit of concern. 

          “My, it’s alright. Let me see your hand,” Gregory slowly took his wrist, his voice soft as he massaged his thumb along his palm to give him something to anchor to. After a few moments, his thoughts calmed and the dizzying mess of it all seemed to fade into the background as he listened to the other’s soft voice. “I just meant that you seem so very proper, that you didn’t seem the type to be having dirty, crazy sex everywhere, alright?” Gregory stated with a worried smile, visibly relaxing when Mycroft nodded. “I didn’t mean to make you feel self conscious about us, I didn’t realise…” Gregory trailed off, shifting on his feet and looking down at their hands between them. “Come on, let’s get dried off and go make dinner. Just try not to distract me too much while I’m at the stove, alright? Naked cooking and sex on a hot surface are both generally frowned upon.” 

          “I’m can make no promises, Gregory. I will try my best to stay on the sidelines as I know nothing about cooking,” Mycroft chuckled, pulling a few of his plush towels from the cupboard and handing one over to the other, quickly drying off and scrubbing it through his hair, coming out with a crazy mop on his head. The look was fine for Gregory, as his short hair looked best disheveled, but his looked like a disaster. Quickly running a comb through it, Mycroft stepped into the bedroom to grab a clean pair of clothes, sticking with casual as it seemed that Gregory had a fondness for seeing him in something other than a full suit. Instead, he wore a pair of light grey trousers and a soft blue button up with the sleeves rolled up, leaving a few of the top buttons undone. 

          “I’ll teach you then. Or you can pretend to learn while you actually sit and watch me while sipping wine.” Gregory challenged with a smirk, giving him another quick kiss before moving to put on his own clothes on, leaving the trousers, and instead just wearing his undershirt and boxers.  “Come on, let’s see what we can find for us to eat,” Making their way downstairs, Mycroft smiled as the other reached out to hold his hand as often as he could, without making it awkward to walk down the stairs or through the doors. Taking a seat on one of the stools in the kitchen, Mycroft gave a soft smile as he watched Gregory move about the kitchen, finding what he needed and quickly assembling a good batch of ingredients on the counter before turning to him. “So, want to help or be pretty and watch? I mean, you are helping a bit, as I don’t know where things are,” 

          “I’m not sure I would be sitting pretty here, but I do like watching you cook. There is something about seeing you so happy, and in your element that warms my heart.” Mycroft chuckled, grabbing a few champagne flutes and pouring a good breakfast wine to go with the food Gregory was preparing. “I can learn from watching, but I promise you, I haven’t been successful at cooking even though you have tried every life to remedy that. I guess you could say I’m just not cut out for it.” Setting the glass in front of the other, he took a seat on the sidelines with his, looking with a small smile to the man in front of him and feeling at peace as they fell into domesticity together. 

          “Was I ever a chef? In the past? I’d thought about it when I was younger, but I wasn’t sure I’d ever be more than just a line cook and that’s not what I wanted to do. Always wanted to protect people though,” Greg mentioned with a bit of a shrug, searching for another utensil to use. 

          “There have always been cooks, but usually it was the poor who prepared food, and seeing as I have lived many lives, I have never been common class, therefore you have not either. It wasn’t until the French really started to lay down their roots and gave it the name Chef de Cusine that anyone really started using that word.” Mycroft chuckled, thinking about Gregory always wanting to spend his time with the villagers, learning different recipes and how to cook as they traveled. “You were always a bit out of the norm, socialising with what most deemed the lower class. You always insisted they had the best recipes. It has always been one of the things I admire about you, learning their skills and earning their trust, making new friends and family in the most unlikely of places.” Mycroft took another sip of wine, rocking the glass in his hand so the liquid swirled. 

          “Good to know, I guess,” Gregory chuckled, setting the bowl he had been working with to the side and rooting around for a pan in the cupboards. “I will admit, pancakes can be a bit tricky if you don’t know what you’re doing when you flip them. I’ve cleaned up a lot of dough from counters when I’ve been distracted. Guess it’s easier when you have staff though… that’s definitely something I’m not used to. They’re certainly very loyal to you, so you obviously take good care of them and appreciate them, but… I don’t know. I’ve just never been important enough for that sort of thing.” 

          “I do try to take very good care of them, as I find that being kind and caring tends to help their attitude towards me, as well as have them stay with me. I give them good pay, nice hours, always send them gifts on their birthdays and Christmas, and for a lot of my team, I provide housing as well. Wouldn’t be fair for me to require them to live in a certain location without some compensation.” Mycroft smiled, thinking back on the families that had been under his employ over the years, having grown fond of them and seen most of them flourish and grow throughout the centuries. 

          “It’s good that you take care of them though. You see a lot of higher officers forget what it was like being out on the streets. Actually, I almost didn’t take the promotion to D.I. because I didn’t want to become tethered to a desk.” Gregory started to pour the mixture into a pan, flipping when he deemed that enough time had passed, and silence fell between them for a few moments as he concentrated. “How do you know when you find the right one, anyway? Like, how did you know it was me, or Anthea knew it was Ryan? I just… I can’t wrap my mind around this still, immortals and incarnation and all. Still trying to make sense of it I guess…” Mycroft’s hand stilled when he was asked, his brow furrowing as he thought about the question. 

          “I’m not sure actually, a bit like I’m not sure how I find you every time. I just  _ knew  _ that you were the one. It wasn’t like love at first sight by any means, well… not entirely, but when we were married the first time, I knew you were the one I was destined to find again, and that you would always be by my side. We do tend to keep this all very quiet, as you can imagine, there would be plenty of governments agencies or nasty criminals that might cause trouble if they ever learned that people who never aged existed. It would become quite dangerous for people like myself and Anthea at that point.”

          “People  _ must _ notice though… through pictures or something? Or that their family friend doesn’t age like everyone else? Does that mean you have to keep moving?” 

          “No pictures, at least, none that others take. The only photos I have allowed to be taken, are ones of us, and my parents or family. They all stay with us though, never to be seen or possessed by others. As of recently though, it has been a lot harder to control that aspect. Being in my position, it makes it a tad easier to discard of any unwanted photos.” It was hard, always moving around and leaving those you were close, but it was part of the deal, not that they had a choice. They hadn’t entered into this willingly, they were born this way, passed down from a long line of immortals. Children were especially rare now, and mummy was never happy that both her boys were not going to have children naturally. It meant the family line would most likely end with them. “We move every so often, disappearing for years until we can reappear without worry. When you have children, it makes it a little easier to stay, at least until they reach the age where they go stagnant. It’s different for each person, but the oldest I have seen someone go is fifty two. Children give the illusion of aging, and it’s easier on them when you don’t have to move. Too bad that the line for the Holmes family will end with my brother and I.” Mycroft mused, always wondering what it would be like to have a child, not sure if he was equipped to be a father or not. 

          “We could always do a surrogate,” Gregory offered, looking to him with a soft smile. “Er, sorry. I mean, if you wanted to. That was a bit out of place,” The man blushed, looking back down at the food he was preparing. 

          “It’s a nice idea, but I worry. It’s already hard for couples who are… well… couples that are  _ permanent _ ... “ Mycroft didn’t like the idea of mentioning mortality, especially when he wasn’t sure this was their last time around. It couldn’t be easy for Gregory to think about either. “Conceiving is particularly difficult, but couples like ourselves, using a surrogate that isn’t immortal, the child would most likely end up mortal, and we would lose them eventually.” It was one thing to lose people who you had come to know, or to lose your mate knowing they would be back, but to lose a child... That was not something even typical couples made it through. “I always did imagine though, a small girl with ginger curls, and those dark brown eyes of yours and that smile,” Mycroft was staring off into the distance with a small smile on his face as he thought about it, his attention being brought back when Gregory apologised for bringing the subject, quickly changing it to something else. 

          “Sorry, it must be a sensitive topic for you…. Um… what age are you then? You look around forty, which isn’t too far off from me, though you wear it better than I do. Pretty sure you’re the only one who likes the grey on me. Tried dying it once, that… yeah, let’s just leave it at once. Couldn’t live that one down at the Yard for months,”  Chuckling, Mycroft looked back to Gregory. 

          “Correct my love, I stopped right at forty. Sherlock is thirty seven. Guess it was always meant to be that he would stay younger than me, but in reality, I will be celebrating my….” Mycroft paused for a moment, thinking of the math and coming to the realisation that he was a lot older than he thought. “Oh, my. I have been off… time is not a construct I particularly depend on, but I can’t believe I was  _ this  _ wrong. The height of the Roman empire's relations with Egypt, the first time we were together, that was twenty seven B.C.E, which means…. It will be my two thousand sixtieth birthday this year…. I’ve been in denial, where has time got to…” Setting down his glass, Mycroft fell silent, steadying himself and trying to come to grips with the realisation.

          “Do I get to call you old man even though you have stopped younger than me?” Gregory teased softly, stopping what he was doing and turning off the elements before walking closer to the politician. “My?” 

          “I’m sorry, I just… I’m over two thousand years old… that means the chances of me having a child, they are waning. Just like most people, we have a biological clock, and I have hit my fifties so to speak. Every century I wait, it get’s less and less likely. We have always imagined a family together for a long time, I want to have a child with you someday, but what happens if they are not immortal, we watch them grow old, we lose them… what if we can’t have child, what if something happens to them and I have to lose both of you….”  Mycroft felt the man press a gentle hand to his knee, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek. 

          “My, you’re thinking yourself into a panic, breathe… think of it this way, science has exploded in your lifetime, right? Just in the last few years, look what they have done with in vitro. We could figure something out. Maybe find someone who’s also immortal to surrogate for us? Fifty years might make a difference, but five won’t.” Gregory was right, of course he was right. The man always knew how to soothe his worries. Nodding, Mycroft muttered a small apology, giving the other a thankful smile before offering to help bring dinner to the table. “Try not to worry about that right now, I shouldn’t have even brought it up. Let’s focus on what we can do, which is helping you recover from an eighty year dry spell,” Moving to take a sip of his drink, Mycroft raised the glass to his lips, taking only a small gulp of liquid before Gregory mentioned that he was to help him ‘recover’ from eighty years without him. His eyes went wide as he choked a little on his drink, having to instantly set the glass down and cover his mouth as he stopped himself from laughing. 

          “Really, I think you timed that on purpose to see if I would spit my drink everywhere, you tease,” Mycroft finally managed to swallow, gasping for air as he shot a playful glare at the other. Gregory took a bite from his plate with a smug look, and he let out a small snort as he shook his head. They finished their meal, eating what was on their plates and even going for seconds before sitting back, practically bursting from all the food. 

          “I’m happy we found each other again, that I’m here now.” Gregory said softly, placing a hand over top of his and smiling before moving to stand, so he could start to clear the table. 

          “I am too, Gregory. More than I could ever express.” The first time he met the man, Mycroft was distant, never one for affection or people touching him. Gregory had changed that slowly, just small passes at first that lead to more grand gestures or public displays of affection. Since those days, Mycroft hadn’t allowed many to get close to him like that, reserving those actions for the select few. As he rinsed off the dishes, Mycroft felt those arms wrap around his waist. 

          “Come on, we can let everything settle in our stomachs up stairs. Besides, the view from your balcony is beautiful.” 

          “Mmm, I do believe that view will be even better when there is a handsome man that tends to frequent it. He has silver hair, tanned skin and a to-die-for body, have you seen him? I’m sure you would agree he is something else,” Mycroft teased, turning around so he could give the other a light kiss before pulling away, moving towards the stairs and shooting a playful glare at the other when he felt Gregory pinch his arse on the way up.

          “Does he tend to hang out with a man who holds a side job with the government, knows about fifty languages?”  

          “Not quite fifty, Gregory.” Mycroft chuckled as they finally reached the top step, turning to look at the other. He was taken by surprise as he was pressed against the wall, those lips now attached to his neck. After the initial shock wore off, a moan escaped his lips as he moved his hands to rake over the Gregory’s back, leaning his head to the side to allow him better access. Mycroft groaned at the friction in his trousers when the man’s hand moved to cup him, trying desperately to buck and feel more, but his silver fox had other plans, moving him back towards the bedroom. 

          “While a part of me wants to take you out there on your balcony, I don’t particularly want to try and scramble to hide a charge of public indecency against us.” Mycroft was pushed against the bed, falling back and watching as the man dropped and started to undress him, pressing kisses to his skin. 

          “I’d like to see them try and stick a charge to me, I wouldn’t allow it.” The sentence was ended with a whimper as Mycroft writhed under the man’s attentiveness, shifting under his lips, moaning in frustration as Gregory seemed to skip over the most sensitive of spots, only letting those lips touch his thighs and stomach. Keening, his breathing was starting to grow erratic as Gregory sucked a mark into his thigh, whispering darkly, his voice husky and low. 

          “Something for you to think about when you are sitting in your meetings tomorrow,” Mycroft let out a soft breath of air, pleading with the other as his eyes rolled back in his head, hands carding through that silver hair. Gregory’s tongue finally traced somewhere he desperately wanted it, his hips bucking into the touch. 

          “Patience,” Gregory did learn fast, teasing him with the same line Mycroft had used earlier. If Mycroft had any doubts, it was quelled when he felt the heat around his prick and the cool air on his cleft as the man slicked a finger up to that sensitive pucker that fluttered under his touch. Stilling for just a moment, Mycroft willed himself to relax, pain giving way to pleasure as the other pressed his finger in, mewling as he worked it in as well as sucked in the same rhythm. Mycroft was gasping, his grip growing tighter in Gregory’s hair as that finger teased and prodded. 

          “Gregory, please, yes, love, god, more, yes more, please, please,” Mycroft begged, trying to look down to the other, his cheeks filled with heat as he struggled to keep his breathing normal. When the second digit entered him he threw his head back, his breath catching in his throat as he shuddered. A groan of frustration ripped through him as the Gregory pulled back, not allowing him anything more than what he wanted to give him. “Such a tease, please Gregory, I can take more, fuck me,” Mycroft’s voice was sharp as he tried to gain any sort of advantage, the other surprisingly good at keeping him just on the edge. 

          “The sounds you make,” Gregory breathed, pulling back off his cock when he started to tense with the beginnings of an orgasm, blowing a soft breath of cold air on his wet flesh to bring him back down. Never moving his hand, Gregory nuzzled against Mycroft’s thigh and peppered a few more kisses there, pressing a third finger in and curling it just right so he saw white, heat coiling in his stomach as he thrust up for more, a moan ripping through his chest. 

          “God, yes, fuck, Gregory, that, please, more,” When that Gregory used Mycroft’s mouth, fingers, cock you name it, he was a lost cause. All he could manage was to babble and beg, and Gregory would be the only one in history who could make him do so. “Damn, Gregory, please, I need you, eight years without-” His sentence was cut off when those fingers brushed against his prostate again, his back arching off the bed. Gregory would be the death of him. Mycroft was sure that was the only way he would see himself out of this world. Whimpering, he lay on the bed, a panting mess, wanting to push up on his elbows as the other pulled out, but he didn’t have the strength just yet. It didn’t take long to realise what was happening when the other returned, the man’s cock running up and down his arse before pressing just past that first ring of muscle. 

          “Christ, Mycroft…. You’re so tight. I’ve never… I’m not going to last,” Gregory groaned, looking to him for some guidance. He slowly pressed in and gave him enough time to relax. 

          “Shhh,” Mycroft’s voice was shaky as he tried to talk Gregory through the experience, help him hold it off. “Go slow, and focus on anything other than the hea-AH!” God, he was big, and felt even more so now that he was inside of him. “G-Gregory, you’re so big, god, I love you, fuck, this… I want… please…” Any sort of thought Mycroft was trying to form was brushed aside by the sensation he was feeling. Gregory let out a moan, his breaths coming in a shallow huff as he leaned in to pepper Mycroft with kisses. 

          “I have you, I have you. My, just breathe,” Gregory whispered, moving along his jaw and neck before Mycroft moved and caught his lips in a searing kiss. With that kiss, Gregory started moving, Mycroft groaning as the other thrust into him, wrapping his legs around the man’s waist and holding on as he set a demanding pace. Both of them were panting and covered in a thin layer of sweat as they moved together. The heat in his belly growing, feeling the tidal wave ready to crash down as the other adjusted his hips and found the right angle to hit his prostate on every thrust. 

          “God, Gregory, yes, please, harder, fuck, yes, yes, yes,” Burying his face in the other’s neck, Mycroft scrunched his eyes closed and showered the man with kisses before biting down hard on his shoulder, his nails scratching down the man’s back as he grew closer and closer. 

          “Oh, Mycroft, oh god, you’re perfect. You’re amazing, just like this, Christ…” Gregory gasped, moving Mycroft’s legs up just enough to make it easier to move. 

          “Please, Gregory, I need to… I’m almost…” Teetering right on the edge, it felt like he would stay there forever, which wouldn’t be a long shot after Gregory kept him there for what seemed like hours beforehand. 

          “Come for me My, I want to feel you. I want to see you fall apart with my cock up your arse,” That was all it took, the scales tipped, pleasure crashing over him, wave after wave as he cried out, throwing his head back as the orgasm ripped through his body and Gregory continued to thrust into him. Mycroft could feel the other grow more erratic, and after a few more thrusts, he pounded in hard, stalling as his jaw went slack and he finished. Mycroft could feel the man pulsing inside but was a tad disappointed when he realised the other was still wearing a condom and he couldn’t feel the man’s seed fill him up. Collapsing next to him, Gregory lay close, his arm over his waist as he panted, smiling over to him through a haze. “That was… amazing. You’re… wow I’m old. That was fantastic, that make… what? Twelve first times for us? Hope that made up for the wait,” Gregory chuckled, pressing into his neck. 

          “You’re not old, Gregory. It will  _ always _ make it worth the wait darling, every time.” Mycroft murmured, staying put for a few more minutes, even though he wanted to lay there for the next hour. 

          “Yeah, well, in comparison to you, I guess not. You’re a bit of a cradle robber,” Gregory chuckled, sitting up and letting Mycroft stand. They would have to clean up, otherwise they would be taking another shower, and as much as the idea sounded pleasant, Mycroft was far too tired to put in the effort. Groaning and moving, Mycroft made his way to the bathroom on wobbly legs, wiping himself down with a damp cloth and returning to get any spots that were left on Gregory before tossing the rag into the laundry hamper. Climbing back into bed, Mycroft slung his arm over the other’s waist, laying his head on the other’s chest and listening to the man’s breath and heart beat. Mycroft lightly traced his fingers over Gregory’s chest, smiling as he enjoyed sharing the bed with this man. 

          “You know, for someone who claims to have never slept with a man before now, you are rather good at it,” Mycroft teased, shifting his gaze to look up at the other with a small smirk. “Not that I am complaining.” 

          “I learned from the best,” Gregory grinned, laying a soft kiss on the top of Mycroft’s head, brushing his hair back into place and wrapping his other arm around his shoulders. “We should both get some sleep. I’ll try and get up when you do to see you off for work,” Gregory murmured through a yawn. They fell asleep together in a tangle of limbs and blankets, and for the first night in almost a century, Mycroft slept without waking. 


	10. IX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now you guys are caught up to where we are writing, so it might take a bit for the next chapters to come out!! Thanks for all your support and love!

          Greg’s plan didn’t work at all. He simply grunted his goodbyes when Mycroft came around to rouse him the next morning, having always hated anything before ten in the morning, even though the majority of his professional life had involved him getting up far earlier than that. It wasn’t till noon that he actually got up for the day, putting around the house, and getting himself to eat before checking his phone for messages and emails. Frowning, there was one message in his inbox from Caroline’s sister. He read it a few times before simply shaking his head and erasing it, trying to decide if it would be best to tell Mycroft about it or not. 

> _ Greg,  _
> 
> _ Sorry to hear about you and Caroline, but I suppose it would be a lie to say I didn’t expect it. She’s moved in with me, and while she’s not in a great place, I’ll make sure she’s alright. I do have one favor to ask of you though. Don’t press her for a divorce. I know she hurt you, but it will ruin her if she were to go through that. Just live your lives separately for now. There’s plenty of couples who live estranged from one another. She won’t get in your way, and all I ask is that if you do sell the flat, let her have half of the deposit and then shut down your split account.  _
> 
> _ I wish it hadn’t ended this way and I do hope the best for you,  _
> 
> _ Allison.  _

         Really? It would ruin  _ her _ if she received divorce papers after  _ she _ had been cheating and sleeping around on him for god knew how long? Frustrated, Greg tossed his phone to the side and decided to do something productive to get his mind off it all. Going about the rest of the morning, he made a few friends with some of Mycroft’s staff as he got ready for his day, deciding to wander around the neighborhood before returning to the safe house to shower and change, as well as pack a few spare outfits to take over to Mycrofts. Greg was a bit embarrassed by the fact that he wasn’t sure if he could just go back to Mycroft’s without the man there, so he busied himself with what needed to be done to functionally dissolve his marriage with Caroline, researching how to become legally recognised as estranged. Sighing and rubbing his face, Greg decided it was best to wait just a little longer before pushing through everything else. 

         Looking to the clock, he realised there were still a few hours before Mycroft would be home, and decided to go for a run to clear his mind. Changing, Greg hit the sidewalk, and it didn’t take long before one of Mycroft’s guards joined him, smiling as he ran along side him. There was a moment of uncertainty as they looked to each other, but Greg decided it wasn’t so bad after a moment and ignored it, and letting the other man lead him on a path that some of the guards apparently ran together. They fell into an easy conversation, returning late in the afternoon exhausted, but far more relaxed than when they had started out. Greg agreed to meeting up later that week for drinks at the local pub with the others, smiling as the man left and went back to his own flat. Definitely more Greg’s style, befriending the staff rather than having them work for him. 

         By the time he had showered and changed, Greg definitely felt more in control of his life than he had in the past few months, even though he knew there were still things that needed to be sorted out. He was sore, especially after their activities from the night before, but he didn’t mind that. What he had with Mycroft, it was more than he could hope for. The man actually wanted him, which was a far cry from what he was used to as of late. 

         No matter what happened between Caroline and himself, Greg would always care for her, even though she had been unfaithful. He knew he hadn’t been the best husband, throwing himself at his work for weeks sometimes to solve a major case and leaving her on her own, but he had tried to do better in the last few years, pulling back on the number of nights he worked. They even tried for a family, even though looking back, it was painfully clear that Caroline didn’t want it as much as he did. To hear Mycroft say how they had always talked about having a family of their own only served to make that ache stronger. Greg knew better than to push it, understanding why Mycroft was hesitant to start a family without knowing if Greg was going to stay.  

         Wasn’t that something else… to have this semi identity crisis, knowing that you had lived so many other lives, that you had been this other person, but not… and for there to be this whole other part of you, just out of reach and you couldn’t do a thing about it. Greg knew it was pointless to worry about it, but that didn’t stop him from having it in the back of his mind at all times. Rubbing his face, he picked up his mobile, checking the time and considering what to do before sending a text out to Anthea. It wasn’t going behind Mycroft’s back per say, he was just asking for someone who might be able to understand more than the politician could. 

> **Hey, Anthea. I have a favour to ask… well two really. 1. With Caroline and all, I need a blood panel done, and My said something about being able to do it low key, which would be great. 2. Would your husband be willing to just sit and talk about everything? I know I’m trying too hard, but it would be nice to talk to someone else that’s been in the same boat, a support group sort of. Thanks. Really. -G**
> 
> _ Of course, I can have that done tonight if you wish. We have the lab staffed all hours just in case, so I should be able to get you the results in about two hours. Let me know where you will be or if you want me to pick you up so we can do that. As for Ryan, I am sure he would. Let me just give him a ring on my way home and chat with him. I’m sure you two can work something out. Do you mind if I send him your number? -A _
> 
> **Just in case? Actually, nevermind, I don’t want to know. If we could do that tonight, that would be fantastic. It’s just been sitting on my mind for a while now and I think it’s time to put it to rest. I’m at the safe house currently, but I should probably head back to Mycroft’s since he’s going to be home soon. I don’t mind at all if you give him my number either, it’s nothing pressing, just sort of nice knowing I have a safety net of sorts. -G**
> 
> _ I can slip in and out of the house without Mycroft ever knowing I am there, have done it plenty of times before, all for good reasons I assure you. I will be around in about two hours, so make sure he’s busy watching something or making diner. Just distract him with something that doesn’t necessarily need you to be there. Slip out to the loo, and we can have this done in time for, well, I’d rather not type it out. I’m sure you know what I am going for. Ryan will give you a jingle, see you in a few hours. -A _

         Greg snorted a laugh when he read Anthea’s text, rolling his eyes at her sarcasm before smiling when Ryan messaged him shortly after, saving his number in his mobile and typing out a reply. 

> **Hey, it’s Ryan. Anthea gave me your number, said you wanted to chat? -R**
> 
> **I did, yeah. Just… everything that comes with being in our position, maybe we could meet at a pub sometime, chat about it? -G**
> 
> **Yeah, sounds good. I’ll help in anyway that I can, or we can just drink. I can always have Anthea distract Mycroft for the evening so he doesn’t go on CCTV looking for you. The man means well, but he’s always so worried about what happens when he isn’t there. -R**

         Smiling at the message, Greg laughed and put his phone away. Looking around the flat, he sighed, knowing it wasn’t home but it was nice for now, feeling like he had his own space. It would be useful as well, once he was back working again, with the flat being much closer to his work than the manor was, and once their hours went opposite one another, as they eventually would, it would be nice to have a place to crash close by. Greg packed an overnight bag with a few things he could leave with Mycroft, sure that it would make the politician happy to see him moving a few things in, before he headed back to the house. He wasn’t sure he would make it back before Mycroft did, but hopefully he didn’t worry the other too much. 

         Parking outside and cringing slightly at the sight of the black car, Greg swallowed his nerves and let himself back in, toeing his shoes off by the door before venturing further to see if he could remember which room was the man’s study. 

 

*****

         Mycroft’s day had been hectic from the moment he walked in the office, Anthea walking through his door to go over his schedule as he unpacked and settled in. 

         “What is on the schedule today? I know I have a meeting with the Prime Minister, as well as the elected official from Spain, oh and the lunch with Elizabeth. Other than that, just paperwork? I’m assuming Craig wants those papers for MI6 today and approvals for the proposed missions?” Sitting down at his desk and unlocking his drawers, Mycroft listened as Anthea went over his agenda, logging into his computer and settling in for the day with a smile on his face. 

         The Prime minister always caused more trouble than he was worth, and the Spanish official was just a pompous, entitled twit, but then again, all politicians seemed childish to him as their sights were only short lived. Mycroft had seen enough in his life to be able to run most of the world governments without a hitch, but then again, he didn’t need to draw too much attention to himself. When lunch rolled around with Elizabeth, Mycroft was already waiting in the dining room of Buckingham Palace, scribbling on a few of the papers he had brought with him on MI6. Sighing and scratching out a few more lines, he shook his head, countering with his own propositions before reading and scratching off the next thing. 

         “Mycroft Holmes, what have I said about work at the table,” Mycroft’s attention snapped up as he quickly cleared the paperwork into  folder and handed it to Anthea before standing to greet the queen. 

         “I’m so sorry my dear, you know how Craig can be,” Leaning in, she greeting him with a hug and a kiss on the cheek before taking a seat next to him. 

         “Now, I call this lunch today and I’m sure you know why young man,” Her voice was stern as she looked to him, and Mycroft knew better than to feign ignorance. 

         “I do. I am sorry I did not tell you sooner. Gregory has returned, he has left his wife, and currently, we are on day three without her.” Elizabeth gave him a long, hard stare before a small smile broke out across her face. 

         “It’s alright deary. I figured as much when you stopped coming round so often.” She chuckled, smiling as the staff brought their lunch. Mycroft had been in her employ long before she had taken the throne in 1952, her mother having given him his first government job. Of course, he had left after Gregory passed in 1943, but he found his way back to her in the late seventies, or rather, she found him. Mycroft had been working as a dignitary in another part of the country for some time, and she had managed to catch wind of his presence in the government, sending him a royal invite to the palace in 1976. Things were explained of course, and secrets kept, but they were close friends and they rekindled their connection they had from when she was a little girl. Since then, Elizabeth had been by his side to help in whatever way possible. Mycroft had explained that he left all those years ago when Gregory passed, and that someday he would be back, to which she gave a small threat that Gregory would be brought in to see her again,  _ or else _ . Gregory had spent many nights in the palace while he worked, taking care of Elizabeth and her sister Margaret. “Now, when do I get to see him?” 

         “I have already tried to put that idea in his head, but he seems to be frightened that you will have him offed for possibly bringing mustard, or some other ridiculous notion. I think it is more intimidation than anything, so if you are to meet him, it will have to be a surprise.” Mycroft chuckled at the idea, knowing Gregory would be mortified when he realised they were meeting with Elizabeth. He would quickly warm up though, Mycroft was certain of it. 

         They finished their lunch, chatting about a myriad of subjects and laughing about the other government officials, and it wasn’t long before he was kissing her cheek and bidding her goodbye, having to return to the office. Mycroft quickly finished the paperwork for MI6, sending off the botched proposals and his new requirements to Craig, knowing the other would be seething, but he didn’t mind. The rest of the day went by swimmingly, everything finished, and the meetings halted till next week as he wasn’t sure he could tolerate one more minute with the politicians and their inane pandering. 

         When the clock struck six, Mycroft knew he should pack up and go home, tired, but glad he would be greeted by Gregory when he arrived. Luckily, Gregory understood the long hours at the office, seeing as his schedule was just as hectic. As the car pulled away, Mycroft sent off a few messages to Anthea, his brother and a few others, just passing the time till he returned to the manor. As the car pulled up to the gate, Mycroft tucked his mobile away and waited till the car came to a stop, slipping out and saying goodnight before walking up to the door. It was quiet, but that didn’t mean Gregory wasn’t here. Slipping off his jacket and shoes, Mycroft made his way to the living room, only to find it empty. 

         “Gregory?” Mycroft called, checking the other rooms before shrugging. It was possible he was out grabbing something from the flat, or maybe work called, or well… anything. It wasn’t like he expected the other to stay at the manor at all times, that would be unreasonable. Moving towards the kitchen, Mycroft looked about to see what might be done for dinner, especially with his limited skills. Anthea always made sure his pantry and fridge were well stocked, but that didn’t exactly mean he knew what to do with all of the ingredients. Sighing, he took a seat on the bar stool with a very old cookbook, filled with years of handwriting from Gregory, recipes he had learned throughout the years. Now, what sounded relatively easy to make and that he would have the ingredients on hand?

*****

         Tucking his phone away in his back pocket, Greg heard Mycroft moving about in the kitchen, and he followed the sounds back to see him sitting at the counter, looking through an old book of note cards. 

         “Can I help you?” He asked softly, chuckling as he walked through the door and over to Mycroft’s side, wrapping an arm around his waist and looking down at the book. “I… can’t read half of those, but that looks like my handwriting?” Greg asked, glancing at Mycroft curiously before resting his chin on the man’s shoulder. “How was your day? I went back to the safe house to sort out some things and went for a run to clear my head a bit. Met some of the team, might go for drinks with them some time. Brought a few changes of clothes to keep here too.” Greg said with a hum, leaning over to kiss along the man’s neck. 

         “Yes, well it is your handwriting, centuries of recipes from the locals. It sounds like you kept busy today, I’m glad that you are getting along with the team, they are good people.”

         “Translate the recipes for me? I don’t know what any of these say and that makes it a bit hard to cook. I won’t let you light the kitchen on fire if you help, don’t worry.” Greg nipped at the man’s skin, leaning in to suck a spot just under the collar. 

         “Yes, well, I would if you weren’t so damn distracting. Here, how about this one?  Sjömansbiff, it’s Swedish. This is one you learned while we were in Abisko. Roughly translated, it means Sailor’s beed. Looks easy enough, yellow onions, butter, steak, flour, winter potatoes, bay leaves, thyme, beef bullion, dark beer, parsley, pickled cucumber and... “ Mycroft paused, his nose scrunching up as he looked up to the Inspector. “Mustard.” Greg laughed when Mycroft complained about the last bit, leaning over to kiss him gently on the lips to distract him. 

         “I’m going to gift you a bottle of mustard for your birthday, or Christmas, or maybe both? Just because you hate it so much,” He grinned, pulling the recipe book over and looking at the notes, even if he couldn’t understand a word written there. “Well the ingredients sound simple enough, so I doubt the process is particularly labour intensive. You can be in charge of the beer and translating if you want,” Greg teased gently, tugging for Mycroft to follow him around the kitchen and help him get what was needed for dinner. “You can measure and prep, I’ll take care of the actual cooking. Why would I make a note for pickled cucumbers though, wouldn’t I just call them pickles? Or did they not have that word yet?” Greg asked, moving around each other with ease, sharing little brushes here and there, but never getting in one another’s way. It was easy, and in a way, it was more natural than Greg cared to question. “So far, past me’s have had good taste, so here’s to hoping this one did too!” 

         “Yes, well I can do this first bit here, chop the onion as well as the meat. The directions are, chop the onions, fry in butter. Cut the meat into ½ inch thick pieces then pound thin. Mix flour, salt and pepper then add the meat. Fry on both sides in butter again. Mix potatoes, onions, meat, bay leaves and thyme in a pot. In a separate one, dissolve the bullion then pour over the other mixture. Add the bear and let it simmer for an hour. Serve with parsley, pickled cucumber and mustard.” Mycroft finished reading the recipe and grabbing a cutting board, starting to work on the prep. “I think I can manage the cutting and possibly pounding the meat,” 

         “I don’t know, you said you were coming off eighty years celibacy,” Greg mumbled under his breath with a wide smile, snorting at the glare he received as he set out the pots to get started. “I’m joking My, come on. You set yourself up for that one. Put the knife down so I can kiss you without fearing for my life,” He laughed, holding his hands up in mock surrender until Mycroft sat his knife down and allowed him a small peck on the cheek. Greg moved back and started swirling the butter around in the pan to make sure it was all melted before putting in the first batch of onion, occasionally checking his phone to make sure Anthea hadn’t messaged him yet. Mycroft had offered to contact Anthea for him, so he really didn’t have to be sneaky about it, but he wanted to surprise the other when the results came back. Greg quickly shot off a message that they were working on dinner now, so he should be good in about a half hour to step away. “To be honest, I don’t quite see how mustard works into this dish, it sounds far more like stew than anything…” 

         “I couldn’t tell you why, just that you wrote it down. I don’t cook,” Mycroft chuckled, finishing the last of the onions and meat and moving to mix the flour, salt and pepper. When he had finished those as well, he handed everything off to Greg and decided to start setting the table. 

         “Maybe there was some fancy Swedish mustard that was really good with this,” Greg shrugged. Everyone had told him there was no point in struggling to force memories back, that they would come back on their own. Smiling over to Mycroft as he finished the prep, he focused on his part, making sure everything was spot on. Greg was about to comment on what else needed to be done when he turned to the stove next to him, a slight delay in the flame catching with a large flare up around the base of the pot. It wasn’t enough to hurt anyone, but it did startle him and caused him to tense. “I’m fine, just.. Caught me by surprise. Always hated when that happens,” Greg murmured, trying to brush aside the fact that something so harmless bothered him as much as it did. He could handle a gun without a problem, but a little flare up would leave him shaking. Clenching his jaw to try and hide it, Greg finished frying off the meat and put everything in the stock together, adding the beer after taking a gulp and setting it to simmer. 

         “I have some sourdough bread as well that we can toast, do you want to help me with that? I’ve never been very good at cutting bread,” Now Greg knew that Mycroft wasn’t good at cooking, but this was just a ploy and he knew it. He wouldn’t say it though, instead, Greg just smiled and walked over, standing behind the other and taking his hands in his own all Patrick Swayze like. It didn’t seem to last long though, he had to step away as he felt his phone go off. 

> _ Downstairs bathroom, five minutes. -A _

         “I’ll be right back, just, don’t let the stew boil over, just have to use the facilities.” Leaning in, Greg placed a quick kiss on the man’s cheek before walking off and heading downstairs. Anthea was already setting up, getting out a kit and looking to him as he walked through the door. “So, if Mycroft says that he has a minor position in the government, does that mean your’s is itty-bitty. Or is your cover something else?” Greg asked with a lame chuckle, moving to take a seat on the edge of the tub. Anthea grabbed his arm and moved it to her knee, quickly tying a tourniquet around his upper bicep and having him squeeze his hand open and close a couple times so she could find a vein. “Really hate needles, also… a bit worried about how easy it is for you to sneak in here without My hearing you.” Greg joked, cringing but willing himself to stay still while Anthea worked quickly to draw bit of blood needed for the test. “Um, Ryan texted me, by the way. Said he would be willing to go to a pub with me sometime. Thanks for that, really. I don’t feel so fantastically alone now.” Anthea didn’t say a word, and he felt like he was rambling on as she finished, pulling out the needle and placing some gauze over his elbow. 

         “Keep this on there, pressure helps the bleeding stop. We want that clotted before you go back upstairs because Mycroft  _ will  _ notice a plaster if you have one on.” Anthea moved to toss the vials in a plastic bag and put them into her purse, cleaning everything up fairly quickly. “You know very well what his position in the government is, and I am not at liberty to say much more. As for getting in here, I have a key and security knows I have authorisation to be on the grounds.” Smiling, Anthea leaned in to place a soft kiss on his cheek before slipping out, making sure he went first so Mycroft’s attention would be somewhere else. 

         “You look like a lost puppy,” Greg grinned as he returned to the kitchen, moving to kiss the man gently on the lips as he wrapped his arms around Mycroft’s hips. “It was just a couple of minutes, nothing to be worried about.” 

         “I thought you might have become lost, and I’m not exactly sure what I am doing here, but I can tell you one thing Gregory, I am  _ not  _ a puppy.” Greg smiled up at Mycroft as he slid his hands up to rest on the other’s shoulders. 

         “Feels odd to be the short one. Well, different I guess, not odd. I kind of like it. I’ve certainly never thought myself short until I started hanging around you and Sherlock.” 

         “Yes, well, there have only been a few times that you were taller than me, and it was only by a few inches. I prefer being the taller of us. In general it makes me appear more intimidating to others. It’s hard to stare people down when you are looking up at them.” Mycroft chuckled, leaning in to give Greg a few more kisses. “Looks like we have some time to kill before dinner is ready, what would you suggest we do to pass the time?” 

         “Do you often have a reason to intimidate me then? Punish me when I misbehave?” Greg asked with a smirk, trailing his fingers up the man’s chest. 

         “I do, on rare occasion. If memory serves me right, it is one of the few things you rather enjoy and beg for.” There was a dark look in his eyes as the other mentioned punishment. They had been a bit rough the last few times, with bites and scratches, and Mycroft appeared to enjoy being the dominant one. It sent an electric bolt down his spine as he bite back a moan that threatened to come out. Greg moved to the other, tugging him by his tie which was just as hot as he had always hoped it would be. 

         “You are once again  _ heavily _ overdressed for this occasion. Also, I know I wouldn’t mind an appetizer to hold me off till dinner is ready.” 

         “Please tell me we are not doing anymore cooking. I have already exhausted my abilities today.” Raising an eyebrow when Mycroft asked if he was joking or not, Greg couldn’t stop the laugh when he realised it was an honest question. 

         “You brilliant idiot, I adore you.” He grinned, kissing Mycroft deeply as his hands wandered over his chest, their tongues meshing together as Greg worked to undo the buttons along his vest and pushing it aside before tugging at his tie again. “Remind me when I get back to working, to bring home a pair of cuffs, and set of spare keys. I want to see what a couple hundred extra years have taught you.” He said with a purr, his arousal evident both in his voice and his trousers as he dropped to his knees in front of the other man. 

         “I think you are treading into some very dark, deep and dangerous waters Gregory. I have had plenty of time to perfect my game, and I know every single spot that makes you fall apart. I will have you on your hands and knees with a riding crop, begging for me to do what I do best.” Greg’s mind was reeling with Mycroft’s promise for far more than he could imagine. He looked up at the other as the man moved to caress his cheek. “So tempt me if you will, but just know, you did ask for it. You think eighty years is a long time to wait, that is child's play. I have gone longer before, and I must admit, the longer I wait, the more I find myself missing the rougher bits of it all.” 

         Looking up with a smirk, Greg returned to the task in front of him, with any and every little kink and fantasy that the D.I had dreamed up coming back to him. As he sucked his cock into his mouth with a low hum, Mycroft’s hand tightened in his hair and Greg willed himself to relax, to surrender and show that treading into those dangerous waters was exactly what he wanted. Following Mycroft’s hand as he guided the depth and speed, Greg moved to undress himself as much as he could, allowing his erection to bounce free and fighting the urge to touch. If this was going to be the game they were going to play, he wanted to show that he still remembered the basics to press Mycroft further along. So what if they were going at each other like rabbits, Greg felt like one at the moment, more alive and excited than he had in a long time. 

         “Good Gregory, God yes, your mouth feels so good. I could keep you here on your knees like this all night, but maybe, if you are lucky, I will bring you to bed. Show me what you have learned so far and we shall see.” Greg worked Mycroft the best he could, taking him as far as he was allowed by the grip in his hair, just slightly longer than he normally wore it, but not wanting to cut it now if he could have this because of it. It certainly didn’t look messy by any stretch of the imagination, just long enough that he wasn’t able to roll out of bed and call it good. Feeling Mycroft’s leg’s start to give out from under him, and his grip tightening, Greg nearly whined when the other pulled him off. “Let’s move to the bedroom dear,” 

         He was quick to stand and follow, making his way to the guest suite as neither of them had the patience to make it all the way upstairs. Greg shivered as he tried to calm himself, his mind racing with possibilities as they reached the room and Mycroft stepped behind him, moving him to the bed. It wasn’t until he saw the fabric coming towards his face that he realised the other was blindfolding him with that tie of his. 

         “Mycroft,” Greg breathed, the man’s breath along his skin. He went perfectly still with the loss of one of his senses, throwing his trust into the other completely. Holding out his hand, he tried to reach out for some point of contact with the other before hearing another command. 

         “Ah, now Gregory, keep your hands to yourself unless otherwise instructed,” Greg swallowed nervously as he pulled his hand back to his side, telling himself to be calm and relax, that Mycroft wouldn’t just skip off and have tea now that he was like this. “I could always get another tie if you are so inclined to move about. Now, I will return in just a second, I promise.” Clenching his hands in the blankets instead, he listened for Mycroft as he left, trying to figure out what he was doing before he returned and was telling him to think of a safeword. A part of him wanted to think it idiotic, but he appreciated Mycroft making sure he was safe and taken care of. Tempted momentarily to say mustard, he stopped, sure that Mycroft would gag him if he did. 

         “Miel,”  _ Honey,  _ the word coming out in French. Greg licked his lips, not sure where the other stood until he was gasping in surprise from a cold kiss. He pressed himself against Mycroft as much as could before he was gone again. “My,” He whimpered, turning his head slightly, trying to guess where he was but knowing he was probably way off. “I trust you, I really do, but I’m not to sure about the ice you have now.” 

         “Tsk tsk tsk tsk tsk, Gregory… Have a little more faith that I know what you like, and what will be pleasurable.” Greg gasped at the feeling of Mycroft’s fingers tracing over his skin, cold, wet, followed by a cooled but not quite cold tongue to warm his skin again. 

         “Oh, My,” Greg moaned softly, shivering and leaning into each touch, though he was never quite sure of when or where it was going to be, thanks to the blindfold and the man’s stealth. It was distraction enough that he wasn’t fighting the loss of sight, instead he found himself shimmying away from the cold touch that trailed down his stomach with a gasp, trying to find the next point of contact. The teasing was nearly torture, but he’d be lying if he were to say he didn’t enjoy it. Greg let Mycroft move him as he wanted, putty in the man’s hand as he arched and whimpered under each touch and nip given to his skin. Without the possibility of being able to watch the politician inch down his body, Greg simply waited and followed the other’s lead. 

         Eventually, Mycroft had him lay back, putting his hands on the headboard so he wouldn’t touch and waiting a few moments before returning to his attentions. Greg wanted desperately to touch, gasping a nearly desperate cry when Mycroft nipped lightly at the sensitive skin on the inside of his leg, just by his groin. The man’s breath was hot against his leaking cock and the fine stubble that had grown over a day was brushing ever so lightly against his balls. 

         “Mycroft, My, please, My, I need you. Christ, you can’t just… fuck,” His hips bucked into the touches, trying to gain any sort of friction. 

         “Naughty Gregory, you think it is okay to try and get yourself off?” Before he could respond, Mycroft had flipped him on his stomach and a hand was swatting his arse, Gregory jumping and yelping. His racing thoughts of everything he wanted had disappeared, all coming down to the simple fact that Mycroft had just spanked him. 

         “You just-” He mumbled, gasping when Mycroft’s hand followed through a second and third time, shivering as he felt the heat of the other man blanketing his back as he leaned over him. 

         “Tell me what you want love.” 

         “You, I want you, I want to be yours,” Greg begged, turning his head and trying to nuzzel the other, only to be pushed back down as a reminder to ‘behave’. “God, My, please… let me be good for you, I want you,” He heard himself babble, trying for a moment to see if he could pull himself up while still holding onto the headboard. Moving his legs up under him, Greg propped himself up a little, knowing he was trying to show off for the other, but he didn’t care. That was the point, to tease each other, to get to know exactly what they wanted from each other. 

         “You are cheeky my dear,” Greg could feel Mycroft’s delicate fingers trace over his bottom lip, and it took him a moment before he realised what the other wanted. Taking the man’s fingers in his mouth, Greg sucked and lathered them as best he could, knowing that they would soon be up his arse and it would be rough without lube. He was right. Greg cried out when Mycroft quickly and suddenly breached him without much prep, pushing him into the mattress as his arms gave out as well. 

         “Fuck… fuck, Mycroft, fucking shit,” He whimpered, trying to get his scattered thoughts back together as the other pressed those fingers right against his prostate. 

         “Gregory, as much as I love the sounds that you make, I want you to talk to me, tell me what you want, be detailed, everything. I want to hear you talk dirty, my love. The better the talk, the more you will get.” 

         “I want,” He gasped, having to choke on his words as the other pressed against that sweet spot again. “I want to feel you, your cock, inside me. Pushing me open and filling me, AH-HAA! Right there. Oh My, I want your teeth on my shoulder and your nails along my back, taking what has always been yours, I want…” Greg arched his back into the other’s demanding pace, loving everything that Mycroft was willing to give him. “I want you. I want you deep in me where no one else has ever had me, for me to not be able to move after, to not know anything else but you,  _ please. _ ” Greg thought he was going to cry when Mycroft pulled himself completely away from him, clenching his hands into the blankets to keep himself from ripping the blindfold off from around his head. 

         “Shhh, love. You’ve been a very good boy, now I’m going to give you what you want.” Greg moaned softly, only to keep himself from asking for more. Catching his breath, he felt the other move off the bed and for a few moments it was dead silent. 

         “My… please,” It felt like ages before he felt the other next to him, sitting close, hands pulling him to sit up. It took some careful planning on both their parts, but finally Greg was sitting on Mycroft's lap and he could feel the other under him, the man’s arousal hard against his arse. Greg’s hand quickly went to the other’s wrist to anchor himself, letting Mycroft guide him to sit onto that perfectly thick cock of his, gravity doing it’s part to pull the detective down when his body tried to fight him. “Oh, God, oh… My,” He gasped, his head falling onto Mycroft's shoulder. He was still blind, but nothing else quite mattered as his mind focused down to just the physical feel of his lover surrounding him in every way possible. “Christ, Mycroft, god, you feel so big. Only you. Only ever you. Fucking, move please. I need you to use me.” 

         “The lovely thing about this position, is that you have to do the moving,” Before Greg could move, a hand was at his head, pulling the blindfold off. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust before he focused on the man in front of him. Mycroft was disheveled and drunk off their pleasure, matching his own expression. “Oh God, Gregory, you are so handsome. You feel so good love. Please, move, use my prick, ride it and make me use you.” 

          “My,” Greg whispered, leaning forward just enough to kiss him deeply before he started to move his hips around, holding tight to Mycroft’s arms and dropping his head onto his shoulder as they both moved with each other, chasing their shared pleasure. Carefully, he started picking up speed, dropping down a little harder each time with a gasp, each drop brushing against his prostate. “Mycroft… oh My, oh God, just like that… just there…” Greg babbled on, feeling the other arch and thrust into him as they figured out their pattern, spreading his legs in an attempt to push down further. He wanted to feel Mycroft as deep as possible, to push out all the doubts he had ever felt, and focus on the man in front of him, just on them now. “Oh fuck, yes, right there, fuck.” Greg grunted when their position was rather forcefully changed, not minding at all when Mycroft started moving hard and fast, arching against the onslaught of his sweet spot. 

          “God, Gregory, yes please, come for me, I want to see you, I want to watch you fall apart, to lose yourself. Fuck,” Mycroft swore, biting his lip and leaning his head down to bury it in his shoulder. Greg couldn’t deny that it was rough, and there was pain mixed with pleasure, but as they both got closer, that ball of heat and energy collected in his gut, he found himself wanting more. “Please, come love,” That was it, his gut was clenching as he was sent over, the detective crying out as he released over his stomach, a bit splashing up across his lover as well. 

          “Yes, yes, god My, fuck, Ah!” Greg whimpered, Mycroft still moving at the same pace as before. “Now you My,” Mycroft cried, his hips stuttering forward and staying still, his orgasm ripping through him, as he felt the other twitch around him. 

          “God, you are great, so beautiful, handsome, strong, and that damn silver hair,” Mycroft fell beside him, cuddling close and laying kisses over his shoulders. “As much as I’m enjoying this, three times in the past twenty four hours is far more than I could have ever hoped for. I am not sure I can keep up with this pace. I am getting very old dear,” Grinning at the mention of how much they had gone at it since they had made up from their fight, Greg leaned over to kiss the man’s forehead before groaning and sitting up to look for a clock. A fair amount of time had passed, but they still had enough time left on the stew before it would be ready. 

          “I’d say we should start acting our age, but I don’t really know what that entails for someone like you,” Greg teased, reaching out for a few tissues from the side table to clean up their mess before tossing it to the rubbish bin. “It’s definitely pushing it for me too. Guess we are in the honeymoon phase, or something. Don’t question it too much, just enjoy it before we both are chucked back into reality.” Greg added with a wink and laid another soft kiss on his lips. “You are truly amazing, you know that? Just… perfect. Everything.” 

          “I’m certainly not complaining, just don’t want a young thing like you to be disappointed when I can’t keep up. Two thousand years really slows you down,” Greg smiled as he listened to Mycroft, fighting the urge to doze off since they really needed to finish dinner. “I can’t say I know what it means as far as my stamina goes to be quite honest, I always wondered that myself. I’ll just try to keep up with you, dear. You have always been the more adventurous and active of us both, so whatever you wish.” Kissing the man once again, he pulled back with a soft smile. 

          “I certainly feel rather vanilla this time around. I’ll have to see what I can come up with. I’m just happy I’m here with you. Happier than I thought I would be after leaving her, and happier than I ever thought I could be period. Come on, let’s finish up dinner, then we can actually go out on the balcony like I said we should last night.” Greg slowly pushed himself up from the bed, grunting slightly at the ache from being so rough, but he knew that some ibuprofen would be enough to help take the edge off. Grabbing his clothes and getting dressed again, he grinned as he watched Mycroft slowly do the same. 

          “You know, for someone in his late forties, you seem to get up and go a lot faster than me. Why can’t we just lay here instead? We can quickly turn off the stew, cover it, and reheat it later after a nap.” 

          “I swear you are a cat. Aloof and judgemental of others, and it just happens to be a mistake that you are sitting on my keyboard demanding attention.” Greg teased, reaching up to brush some of Mycroft’s curls back into place before stepping back into the main part of the house, the smell of stew wafting through the air. “Smells amazing, let’s put that toast on and then we can eat.” 

          “I’m glad you are happy here, Gregory. There is no where else I would rather be than by your side. I hope that I can continue to show you that.” Greg grinned when Mycroft joined him, just wearing his pants and a shirt. He gave him a quick kiss on the cheek as he portioned out their meal, putting a few pieces of bread with each bowl before setting the rest to the side to save for later. Once out on the balcony, they were content to eat in a comfortable silence, a slight blush colouring Greg’s cheeks. 

          “I’m sure you will. I don’t see how you couldn’t.” Greg murmured, leaning over to press a light kiss to the man’s forehead. 


	11. X

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know this is a short chapter, I'm trying to keep up here guys!!! I'm going to attempt a new chapter every week, most likely on Sundays. If I'm a tad late, please be patient, I'm working on typing them out for you and editing them so they are presentable for your reading! So! Until next Sunday, here's your weekly Holmes Everlasting update!

 

           Their lives fell into a simple pattern after that. Greg’s return to work meant that they weren’t able to spend every evening with one another, but they made up for it on their days off. Greg’s tests came back clean across the board, and Sherlock made it clear on their shared cases that he found their relationship disgusting and complained about it every chance he got. They became easy friends in a way, Sherlock mocking him about being inept at his job to which Greg would retaliate with some sort of sarcastic response about a well known fact that Sherlock had decided to erase from his memory. After one joke about remembering social cues, it had triggered a sulk and it was then that Greg started picking up on what John had apparently once done for him. He learned to avoid those subjects quickly. Before long, it was nearing Christmas, and while Mycroft had been more than content to give him a history lesson on the inaccuracies of celebrating the holiday, it certainly didn’t stop him from enlisting Anthea’s help and picking out a tree to set up in the main hall while Mycroft was out. They were in the midst of decorating it with ornaments when they heard the front door open. Greg snorted a bit of a laugh as he looked over at Anthea with a guilty smile. 

          “Five quid says that he will complain about the tree being a pagan symbol with a Christian holiday. As long as he puts the star up, I don’t care. I’m not tall enough to reach it without a ladder.” Greg waited, watching as the other entered the room, his eyes going wide as he spotted the tree, and a frown tugging deep across his face as he looked in disgust to the sight before him. 

          “Really? This is what I come home to? The two of you, working against me to put up  _ this  _ monstrosity? I would have been fine with a traditional Saturnalia feast and evergreen boughs, but I thought we had talked about….  _ this. _ ” The politician’s nose scrunched up as he looked them both over, and Greg couldn’t help but chuckle. Dusting the pine needles off his hands and shirt, he went over to greet Mycroft with a kiss, only laughing more when he tried to sulk while returning the gesture. 

          “It’s pretty, and smells good, and makes me happy. Also… Anthea said I could have one,” Greg added at the end, not caring that he threw her under the bus or made it sound a bit like one parent had said no while the other said yes. “Ich liebe dich,”  _ I love you. _

          “Ich liebe dich auch miene lieben, aber dieser Baum muss gehen,”  _ I love you too, my love, but this tree has to go. _

          “You don’t have to take care of it. I will. I have always loved Christmas. It’s fun to get into the spirit of it all. Now, put the star on top while I get you some Glühwein.” Greg directed with a nudge towards the tree, moving into the kitchen to check on the roast he had decided to cook. While he had fun trying out different recipes with Mycroft from their past, Greg had settled into a more familiar pattern of recipes he had already memorised, saving the others for when they had a weekend and could indulge themselves. Stirring the pot of mulled wine and pouring some into a mug for Mycroft, he returned to the main room with a grin, the other still glaring at the tree as if it had personally insulted his mother. Greg passed the mug over, kissing Mycroft’s cheek before returning to the tree to finish decorating it.

          “Must I put the star on Gregory? If I do, I will have pine needles coating me for the next week,” Greg laughed, waving the other away to enjoy his wine and helping Anthea finish the tree. He shrugged off Mycroft’s complaints about the star and grabbed a stool to attempt to put the star on the top. 

          “I’ll clean up everything, I promise. Don’t worry,” Greg said, leaning around the tree to see that Mycroft had taken a seat on the opposite side of the room. Finishing up and dusting the few needles that had fallen onto his shirt, he thanked Anthea when she came over with a small broom. Sweeping up the immediate space, she laid out the skirt and assured them that it would catch whatever needles fell between now and after the holidays. Finishing, Greg asked for a moment alone with Mycroft, and she nodded with a smile and an assuring squeeze on the shoulder before disappearing off into the house. “My, it’s just some fun. This is something I’ve always loved doing. Please, don’t be angry.” 

          “I will never understand the appeal, but if you really wish to do this, fine. Christmas to me, seems like a trivial holiday, as I’ve seen him when passing through, and he wasn’t as great as they make him out to be. Couldn’t even spare his own life, I can at least manage that,” Greg blinked in slight horror when Mycroft was so flippantly blasphemous. He was certainly not a religious man by any stretch of the imagination, but it was still a surprise to hear it come from the man who was so painfully proper about everything. “I’m just joking Gregory. We were together during that time, and of course we heard the stories, but we were in Egypt. Far away from where he was,” Narrowing his eyes, Greg huffed in his own mock annoyance before moving over to join the man, wrapping his arms around him and relaxing once more when he kissed him. Of course Mycroft probably knew that was one way to make all the fight leave him, but Greg didn’t mind one bit. It went both ways and had certainly got them both out of trivial arguments before. 

         “I swear you cheat at kissing. No one should be as good as you are,” Greg teased as he sat down beside Mycroft, moving his arm to rest over his shoulder and allow for him to cuddle up against the man’s side. 

         “I don’t cheat, Gregory. I just have had centuries to perfect my skill and I’ve known you long enough to know what you like. Also, the tree will be coming down the day after Christmas, just so you are aware.” 

         “As long as the story of Scrooge isn’t based on you, then I think I can hold back a bit and take the tree down after Christmas.” Greg smiled as Mycroft pulled him close, linking their hands together as he slowly inched from his seat and nearly into Mycroft’s lap. 

         “I promise you, that story has nothing to do with me,” Greg moved to cup the other’s cheek, pressing small kisses to his lips, slowly enjoying the taste of the other. Greg’s little signs of affection were something that was natural to him, always having been very tactile in all of his relationships. Sure, pinning Mycroft to the wall and snogging each other senseless with teeth and nails was hot as hell, but a quick kiss on the cheek or even the shoulder was far more common and just as comforting. “How did I ever get so lucky, to have  _ you  _ as the one I spend the rest of my life with? You are so very handsome, kind, caring, warm, gentle, and an excellent lover,” Coughing a laugh at Mycroft’s list about him, Greg smiled up at the other and kissed him again on the lips, deepening it just enough to be a tease before standing and pulling Mycroft up with him. 

         “I should certainly say the same about you. You are a Roman statue, insanely smart, perceptive, subtle in the best way… and two thousand years experience does not go to waste with you,” 

         “I aim to please,” Mycroft purred, standing when he was pulled up, and looking into his eyes. “Oh, I forgot to mention, I knew you had a work party for the holiday coming up, so I took the opportunity to get you something nice. It’s in the bedroom,” Greg laughed softly when Mycroft mentioned having a surprise for him upstairs for the party, assuming it would be a few overly fancy button downs, or a ridiculously expensive tie. Mycroft leaned in and placed a soft kiss on his cheek before making his way towards the stairs, Greg following close behind to the bedroom with a smirk on his lips. At the sight of the two suits though, he fell silent, squeezing Mycroft’s hand in his when he realised he should probably show he wasn’t angry. “Now, please don’t be cross that I have gone and done this. Don’t think it has slipped my attention that you’ve gone back on our deal of no gifts for me, so this is payback.” 

         “Early Christmas then. These are beautiful My, thank you.” Greg breathed, running his hands over the fabric before turning back to the other with a fond smile. “And of course I got you Christmas presents. I can’t just not do something nice for you. You’ll still have to wait until the actual day to get them, though. No deducing either! I’d actually like for you to be surprised,” Greg half complained, knowing it most likely wouldn’t happen, but he could still tease. 

         “I promise I will not deduce what you have given me for Christmas. I may not be one for celebrating these inane holidays, but I wouldn’t ruin it for you my love,” 

         Not knowing where Anthea had gone, but assuming since he hadn’t heard from her in a while, she probably saw herself out, Greg didn’t mind pushing Mycroft up against the doorframe as he kissed him again, this time with a bit more force. 

         “Thank you, really. Now I feel a bit dim with what I’m getting you for gifts. I know you’ll like them but they’re nothing like this.” He admitted, lazily picking the buttons undone on Mycroft’s vest until he could run his hands under it. 

         “Gregory, it’s not the cost of the gift that matters, it is the thought, and I really cannot believe I am the one saying this to you. I feel like this would be something you would lecture me on.” Greg shook his head in amusement as he was reminded that the cost didn’t matter as much as he thought, keeping silent about how that was his saving grace seeing as he certainly didn’t have anything like Mycroft’s bank account. 

         “I know, but that doesn’t keep me from trying. It’s tricky when you sort of have everything already,” Greg murmured. He had been saving for the last couple of months for a beautiful chess set he had seen in a store on his way home from a case. Even Sherlock had given the set his blessing, having seen him looking it up on the computer once, and muttering how Greg should start taking lessons now should he ever hope to beat the other man in his lifetime. Smiling at Mycroft and relaxing under his touch, Greg kissed along his neck, giving a light nips along his skin. “Come on, dinner should be ready in a couple of minutes. I’ll call that my thanks.” Greg chuckled, kissing the man once more on the nose before returning to the main floor and humming at the smell that surrounded them. Between the roast and the wine left on the stove, it was definitely Christmas now in Greg’s book. 

         “I see how it is, tease me, get me hot and bothered, and now you are just walking away. You will pay for that Gregory, mark my words.” Mycroft had re-buttoned his shirt, though, not all the way, enough so he didn’t look completely unkempt. As they set the table and plated their meal, the two ate with smiles and laughs, as they talked of fond memories and things at work. Greg always had some ridiculous story of Sherlock, as well as some rather unintelligent criminals, and Mycroft contributed with whiny politicians and childish games they would play. It was a lovely state they were in, happy and content with one another, always taking the time to show each other how much they cared, and taking things at their own pace. When the meal was finished, Mycroft cleaned the dishes up, putting the last of the silverware away in the washer and shutting the door. “Well, my dear, that was absolutely delicious.” 

         Greg greatly enjoyed their dinner together, smiling as the other commented as well and holding out an arm to invite the man closer to his side. 

         “I’m glad that you enjoyed it. I’ve always liked making roasts when the weather is cold like this. Fancy comfort food.” He chuckled, resting his hand easily in the small of Mycroft’s back, his favourite way to hold him close while they talked. “You know, I’m going to make it my goal to celebrate all the ridiculous holidays with you. Valentines, creepy bunnies, green beer, all of it.” Mycroft let out a groan and rolled his eyes, showing disgust at just the thought of celebrating them. 

         “I am not one to drink beer, so I do not understand what you plan to do there. The easter bunny is even worse than Christmas as far as pagan holiday gone wrong, and don’t even get me started on valentine's day, Gregory.” Greg laughed, kissing away the complaints from the other. 

         “I’ve told you plenty of times, Sherlock and I tease you as much as we do, because you react so much. It’s fun,” He shrugged, offering up the wine in his hand for them to share. It was certainly sweet enough in his mind that it was as good as dessert. “You do the same with me.” 

         “Yes, well, just because you get a reaction out of me, does not mean that you have to tease me as often as you do. Also, I don’t think you could  _ make  _ me celebrate anything. Just because I am allowing you to have a tree in the house, does not mean I am celebrating christmas. I am a Roman, Gregory. We crucified Jesus. I will celebrate Saturnalia with you, if you really wish, or any other Roman holiday, but none of these other insipid ones.” Greg chuckled as he took his wine back, rubbing his fingers in small circles along Mycroft’s back to soothe him. 

         “Love, I don’t even know what Saturnalia is. I also wouldn’t say that you crucified Jesus out loud, or around too many people.” He added, cringing slightly at the mention of crucifying anyone really. “I don’t celebrate St. Patrick’s outside of mocking people for green beer, so don’t worry about that. The Easter bunny is bloody terrifying, though they do have great sweets on sale after, like cadbury eggs.” Greg shrugged, kissing Mycroft again to distract him a little more. “I’ll stop teasing you so much. I can’t make any promises about Sherlock toning it down though, but I don’t mean to upset you.” He apologised. Greg knew it was just that day that had been hard on him, and for whatever reason since the weather had turned cold, Mycroft’s mood had gone sour. It was just like Sherlock though, learning what to avoid so the man didn’t shut down on him again. 

          “You haven’t upset me, I just think you are rather absurd sometimes.” 

          “Come, we’ve got a fire to enjoy. You might not like celebrating holidays, but I still need to introduce you to s’mores.” Greg moved away, pulling a few items out of the cupboards before moving to take Mycroft’s hand. 

          “Gregory, I know what s’mores are, and just because I have never eaten one, does not mean I need to be introduced to them.” Mycroft took a seat on the sofa in front of the fire place, his legs curling up as he pulled a blanket over his lap. “Not to mention, I have already spoiled myself with your sweet wine. Adding this treat to it would ruin my diet. You know how hard it is to stick to it during the holidays, must you make it even more so?” 

          “Then just one, or you can have some graham crackers instead,” Greg teased gently, having gotten plenty of sweets to make multiple treats, but limiting himself to just one tonight. He didn’t need to make himself sick. Greg felt bad for how concerned Mycroft was about his weight and diet, always trying to assure the man that his weight was perfect, and there was nothing to be concerned about. Settling down in front of the fire, his back leaned against Mycroft's legs, putting a marshmallow on the end of his roasting stick. “I’ll make a soup with the leftovers from the roast tonight for later this week. That’ll be on your diet.” Greg offered, trying to be helpful as he looked up at his lover behind him, smiling fondly when he returned the gesture and brushed a hand through his hair. “You know I always say that you’re gorgeous as you are, but I’ll cut back on the sweets if you’re really worried about them. If it wasn’t so cold out now, I’d say you should join me running. Still think you should in the spring. It’s a good escape from everything… and it would be an excuse to see you in running shorts.” 

          “I’d appreciate that. Sometimes the meals get old at my office, so to have your fine cooking would definitely brighten my day. Thank you love, though I would never wear running shorts, and I don’t think I would particularly enjoy running outdoors where everyone could see me. I think I just prefer to purchase a treadmill if it came to it and run inside.” Greg gave a playful whine when Mycroft said he wouldn’t wear running shorts, sticking his tongue out to tease him before returning his attention to his s’mores.

          “I would certainly enjoy the sight.” Greg joked, nuzzling Mycroft’s knee before he continued speaking. “Running isn't for everyone, so don’t feel like you have to just for me. It’s funny, I hate doing it on a case, but I like doing it as a break. I think it’s the whole ‘by choice’ versus ‘by force’ thing. It’s useful when your brother decides to be an idiot and bolt like a damned dog after a squirrel too.” Greg shook his head, having found himself chasing after the younger Holmes more times than he would like to count. 

          “Yes, well that doesn’t weigh heavily for you Gregory, you like me in any state of undress, or anything less than a suit. I’m not sure what it is about the idea of seeing me in casual wear, but it seems to be a never ending fascination of yours.” Greg grunted when his marshmallow lit up, forcing himself upright and blowing out the small flame before setting it on the crackers and chocolate. He smiled like a child when he squished it out before take a large bite with a content hum. 

          “Haven’t had one since I was a child. My dad and I used to make them in the summer,” 

          “I can’t understand how you can eat it once it has been burnt like that. The perfect marshmallow would be a nice golden brown all the way around, not charred…” Greg hummed softly as Mycroft ran his hand through his hair, his eyes drifting shut slightly as he pulled his knees up and rested his arms over them, continuing to eat his dessert slower now that he remembered just how sweet they were. 

          “I’ve learned to eat them charred because there’s about a half a second window between not enough colour and on fire.” Greg pointed out, biting back a dirty joke he wanted to make about food on sticks. 

          “You know what I do prefer, and am now craving, watching you prepare this... fondue. I’m not just meaning cheese either, though, that is delicious. Very hot broth to cook meat and veggies, and dessert fondue as well. Maybe you will have to dig through that cook book of yours and find us something nice. I can order a good fondue set as well, and we’ll have a lovely date night.”

          “I’ve… never actually had it before.” Greg admitted after an awkward pause, feeling a bit embarrassed now by the fact. “I mean, well, yeah. Not  _ real  _ fondue. I’ve had it at those fancy restaurants for dessert, but I’m pretty sure that doesn’t count. We could do it for Christmas. Make that our celebration while we open presents. That would be fun.”  

          “You’ve never had fondue?” Greg shrugged when Mycroft spoke up in disbelief. 

          “Caroline was never interested in it,” He explained, skipping out on the fact that she had always had an admittedly good point that it made no sense to go and pay a restaurant when you were the one cooking it. He tried to argue that it was for the experience, but he had never won that point. 

          “I will be going online as soon as possible and ordering the best fondue kit I can, as well as looking up great recipes so we can make it a dinner to remember.” Smiling when Mycroft readily agreed to having fondue as their Christmas dinner, Greg relaxed again into the gentle stroking along his scalp, allowing his mind to wander as he slowly finished his dessert. It was comforting, to be able to relax like this and to be doted on, but not feel overwhelmed, or that he had to force something and be on top of everything. Closing his eyes, he could feel himself starting to drift off to sleep, frowning a bit as he hauled himself to sit upright again and rub his face. 

          “Gonna put me to sleep like that. Come on, let’s go to bed before you’re having to awkwardly haul me up the stairs or something…” Greg chuckled at the mental image of Mycroft calling some of his staff to figure out how to get him up to the room. “Come on, I’m pretty sure I still need to beg forgiveness for my christmas tree over there.” 

          “Yes, that would be interesting…” Mycroft chuckled, moving to stand right along side him. “Mmm, I do love it when you beg. I hadn’t thought that I would be hearing any apologies concerning the tree, as you don’t seem very sorry to have brought it in the house in the first place. Conspiring with Anthea, tsk tsk tsk. I’m afraid you two have grown too close in the past months.” Greg didn’t realise how tired he had become until they got upstairs and he allowed Mycroft to undress him, his eyes drooping and limbs growing heavier by the moment once he was on the side of the bed. 

          “See, this is why I don’t need christmas gifts. I have the best gifts I could ask for this year, and that is to have you by my side. I couldn’t ask for anything better.” Watching the other undress and lay out beside him, Greg happily curled into his side, his head nested contently against his chest with the soft, constant rhythm of Mycroft’s heartbeat under his ear. 

          “You dote on me all the time. I want to have fun and dote on you in my own way,” Greg murmured around a yawn, sprawling an arm across Mycroft’s stomach and holding him close as he quickly fell asleep. 

          “As you wish my darling.” 


	12. XI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm also including a couple different links for this chapter. One of them is a picture of the bracelet we based ours on, and the other is a quick sketch I made of the photograph that Lizzy gives Greg :) Enjoy guys!!!
> 
> http://thedocstardis.tumblr.com/post/149229635361/so-here-is-a-little-sneak-peak-picture-for-the
> 
> http://cdn0.rubylane.com/shops/605466/000479.1L.jpg

> _ It was cold, stupidly so, but the snow hadn’t turned to ice yet. Greg and his brilliance had decided to go out for a walk in the soft powder before it turned gray from the carts pulled along the streets of Nice. Pulling his cloak tighter around himself to keep warm, he walked along, smiling at the silence the snow brought to the city at that time of night, puffing little clouds of steam until he saw a scared looking, but well cared for, red dog padding down along the side of the street. Whistling to it, he smiled when the dog immediately came over to him. Holding his hand out, Greg scratched the creature behind his ears before scooping him up into his arms. “Come on boy, let’s find your home, hm?” He murmured, chuckling when not five minutes later he heard a voice calling out for a Redbeard. “Is that you?” Greg asked, looking to the dog as he followed the voice. Setting down the dog, he followed him around the corner to see a handsome, tall man with a rather dramatic frown on his face. The dog quickly rushed over to his master and Greg jogged after him with a nod in greeting.  _

_ ***** _

          Waking early, the sun just coming through the curtains, Mycroft groaned as he stretched and looked to the other who was curled tightly by his side. He loved the way Gregory looked when he was asleep, so calm and no signs of worry. Leaning in and placing a soft kiss on his forehead, Mycroft quietly slipped out of bed and grabbed his dressing gown, sneaking out of the room and down to the kitchen. Gregory wouldn’t be up for another hour or so, and seeing as he had come home to a lovely meal last night, he wanted to try and do the same for him that morning. Of course, he was a terrible cook, so Anthea was making her way to the front door just as he reached the main floor. He welcomed them in with a soft smile, Ryan in tow behind her. 

          “Good morning dear,” Mycroft leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek as she passed, and smiling as Ryan followed after her, placing a hand on his shoulder in greeting. Moving to the kitchen, Anthea and Ryan attempted to teach him how to make crepes, and by the sixth one, he finally managed to flip it without tearing a hole in the middle. While Ryan taught him that, Anthea worked on preparing fruit and toppings, as well as frying up bacon and eggs. Just when they were about to finish, Mycroft heard the soft padding of feet coming down the stairs. “Good morning love,” Walking over to the sleepy man, he pressed a gentle kiss to his lips as he caught the man’s gaze. “We’ve made crepes with fresh fruit, bacon and eggs. Please, you first.” Gregory moved around the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee, giving Anthea a light kiss on her cheek as hello, and patting Ryan on the back as he passed him along the way. 

         “Does he ever let you sleep, either of you?” When it was finished, he poured a cup for everyone and handed it off to each as they finished making breakfast, Mycroft trying to show off the little amount of skills he had learned this morning. After a few moments, Gregory held out his hand and Ryan gave him a nod as he took over, Mycroft moving to his side. “I had a dream last night, or memory, I guess. We met each other in Nice, around this time. I found your dog, and you were so angry that you were out in the cold looking for him. It was such a nice night though,” 

         “Ah, yes. Redbeard. That was Sherlock’s dog, and every once in awhile, he finds another stray and names him the same, and somehow I always end up taking care of the mutt,” There was a bit of annoyance in his tone, but it was soft as he smiled to the other. “But at least that time he brought me to you,” Reaching up, Mycroft caressed Gregory’s cheek, watching as he leaned into the touch. As their breakfast finished, Mycroft helped plate and set the meal on the table, always waiting for the others to start first, watching Gregory’s reaction to see how he fared. “I take it that I didn’t mess up too bad? It helps when you have great teachers who are very patient,” Mycroft shot a thankful look over to the couple at the end of the table, who returned a smile to him. “I will have you know though, it wasn’t easy. We went through quite a few eggs and flour before I was able to flip one without tearing a hole in the middle,” He chuckled, taking a small bite of his breakfast and giving a pleased hum. 

         “Crepes are tricky, I’ll give you that much. More than anything you just have to be patient and not be a spaz when you flip them.” Giving Gregory a frown when he heard him comment on his crepe flipping skills, Mycroft set down his fork and wiped the syrup from his mouth. There was a chuckle from Ryan that he tried to hide, but Mycroft could hear him just fine. “It’s true,” Gregory protested. 

         “Didn’t say a word, my friend,” Ryan shook his head and held his hands up in mock defense, Anthea giving a small, and knowing smile to them all. 

         “I assure you Gregory, I may not be good at cooking, but I am not a  _ spaz, _ ” Turning his glare to Ryan, he made sure they were both listening. “You are both lucky I have a fondness for you, otherwise I might have you out on your arse in the cold London morning before you could even have a chance to fight back.” Mycroft scowled, shaking his head and going back to his breakfast, ignoring the playfulness of the other two. 

         “Yes… Well, thank you, both of you, for coming and showing My how to cook, and thank you for wanting to make me breakfast, though I assure you that you didn’t need to. I’m glad you did though, this tastes really good.” 

         “Yes, well I guess my ‘ _ spaztickness’  _ didn’t ruin your breakfast now did it,” He gave a very pointed look, taking yet another bite from his breakfast and enjoying the taste, knowing he did rather well for his first time. “Maybe next time I will just have my chef come in instead and make us our meals,” Mycroft knew he was taking this a bit far, but he despised the word spaz, it having been used to describe his brother in a very malicious way on more than one account, and now apparently, his cooking. As they finished up their breakfast, all took a different chore in cleaning, putting the dishes away, wiping down the table and counter, and storing the leftovers for later. It was a beautiful Saturday morning, and he fully intended to enjoy his day off, relaxing in his home, and refusing to leave. A fresh blanket of snow had fallen overnight and the idea of being cold and wet was completely off-putting. Gregory invited Anthea and Ryan to stay, but they already had plans and said their goodbyes and were off, the man returning to his side once he had locked the front door. 

         “I didn’t mean to upset you over breakfast,” Mycroft’s anger wasn’t deep, and it was finally pushed from his mind as the man placed a kiss on his forehead. 

         “I’m sorry I snapped at you. I wasn’t terribly upset, I promise. I am just not a fan of  _ that  _ word. There have been too many people who have used it negatively to describe my brother, and so I have a certain distaste for it. It wasn’t fair of me to think you would know this though,” When the other finally joined him, he kept the book in one hand and the other ran through the man’s silver hair, the repetition and feel calming him as they spent the next few hours on the sofa. Gregory watched telly and he finished his novel, and when it hit noon, he could see the other was growing restless, flipping through channels and never settling. Putting his book down, Mycroft took the remote from the other and turned of the television before looking back at the other. “As much as I enjoy sitting here with you, I can tell you wish to do something more. So, my love, what do you have in mind?” There was a soft smile on his face as he looked to the other, Gregory sitting up to lean his head on Mycroft’s shoulder. 

         “I want to go outside, but I know you hate the cold, and you hate the British Museum, so that is solidly out as well. I’m a bit stuck at wanting to do something, but not knowing what.” Mycroft was about to argue that he didn’t necessarily  _ hate _ the British Museum, but then he reflected and guessed it was one way of putting his feelings towards the institute and dropped the subject. “We could go to the natural history museum? The fossil collections are gorgeous and everyone loves Dippy.”

         “If you wish to visit the British Museum, I will go with you. I would love to see how much you can remember, and maybe I could share some memories of my own from the different pieces they have? Who knows, maybe I could even teach the tour guide a thing or two about how history really happened,” Mycroft chuckled, bringing a hand up to rest on the other’s cheek, turning his head and placing a soft kiss on his lips. 

         “Don’t do that,” Greg moaned, and Mycroft smiled, seeing the embarrassment on the other’s face. 

         “No promises love. I can’t say that I support the museum, but with my position, I am sure I can get us in free of charge, and it is out of the cold.” Standing up and taking the man with him, he gave a soft smile before moving towards the staircase to get dressed. “Come, we should probably change into something a tad more appropriate than our sleep clothes,” Mycroft chuckled, making his way upstairs and into the closet, picking something nice, but not too formal. 

         “They have a rather fantastic cream tea if you want something while we are there. Also, you do realise the museum is free, yeah?” Mycroft frowned, having not realised that the entrance was free. For some reason, he was always under the impression that they charged and wanted money to preserve their ‘heritage.’ Maybe it was just because he had a sour taste from them he always thought the worst. “Why don’t you like the cold? Besides our time in Abisko, I don’t have a memory of you being particularly fond of the cold. Did something happen?” Dressing in a pair of dark grey slacks, and a deep blue button up, he forwent the tie and suspenders, deciding to just leave it there, and hopefully the other would like it. 

         “Nothing happened, I just have never been fond of snow. It is cold, wet, and everyone always gets sick. I’m not exactly fond of the heat either, but I would prefer if things would stay around 65 to 70 degrees. Not to mention, driving in the snow is never the best, and the ice makes for more accidents.” 

         “Well, I promise to keep you warm and not take you ice skating, no matter how much you may tempt me.” Gregory grinned, leaning up to kiss him as he groaned a complaint. “Come on, before I get too carried away and strip your clothes back off.” The other man murmured, kissing him on his nose before stepping back and heading down the stairs. The car was already waiting out front, Mycroft having sent for it as they were heading upstairs to change, and they slipped in and were on their way. As they pulled up to the Museum, Mycroft looked up at the building, a bit of a scowl on his face as he sighed, turning to the other as he thanked him for coming. “Thank you, it’s…. Just trust me when I say it means a lot to me that you came.” 

         “Anything for you love, and only you. Trust me when I say, if anyone else had asked for me to accompany them to the museum, I wouldn’t have even given them the dignity of an answer.” That was putting it lightly. Making their way to the front door, Mycroft followed after Gregory, moving with him past the other exhibits and straight to the section labeled ‘Ancient Greece and Rome’. Taking a deep breath, he looked around, seeing statues, figures and frescos from his past, and in them, little bits and pieces of home. Not only did he refuse to attend the museum on moral grounds, but the feelings that the pieces brought back to him most times were too painful, and not something he wished to experience in public. With Gregory by his side though, it might be easier to relive some of his old memories. There was an exhibit on the Pantheon, which certainly hit home as that was where he had first met the man. Mycroft was silent, standing near the other, looking over the items, and never saying a word. There were faint voices in Latin, children running through the streets, the sounds and smells of the Roman market, and the feeling of the crisp breeze from an early morning stroll before they opened the shop for the day. 

         “We lived in Rome a couple times, didn’t we? I remember things being new and worn, and I never really know what to make of it since they overlap so much. It’s harder to keep those sorts of memories straight.” Frescos from Pompeii and Herculaneum, the both of them having lived there just a few months before the eruption of Mt. Vesuvius, brought back a feeling of relief, knowing he would have lost Gregory had the man not found a chance with the Roman army back at the capitol. When Gregory held tight to his hand, Mycroft turned his attention to the other, but did not move, not yet. 

         “You were young, very sweet and kind, and of course, helping Sherlock when we first met. He had slipped from my hand at the dedication of the Pantheon, ran off and I couldn’t find him. Sherlock had found you though, trusted your caring smile, and of course, you helped me.” Giving the man’s hand a soft squeeze, they moved towards the section on Egypt, stopping at the Rosetta Stone. 

         “I don’t know why, but I had always thought the stone would be smaller than it actually is. It makes sense that it would be this large, but in the textbooks it always seems… I don’t know… the same size as the textbook.” Greg chuckled, moving to look at a few more pieces next to the stone. 

         “It was only three years after I had met you that we moved to Egypt. Spent our time in Cairo. I was a scribe and scholar, and you spent your time with the working class, learning recipes and other talents that only the very poor knew. You were so happy with them, every culture, you always knew that you would be happy there, and seeing you smile, that was all I needed.” Going past a few of the pieces, Mycroft stopped at a small, golden bracelet with a scarab jewel in the center. His eyes went wide at the sight, his hand dropping from Gregory’s as he looked over the piece he never thought he would see again. 

         “One of my forensics lads, smart boy, he’s in school to be an archeologist, always makes jokes about what time span it has to be when it stops being grave robbing and starts becoming research. I’ll be sad when he leave us,” The words barely registered with Mycroft as he continued to look at the bracelet, frozen where he stood. It had been his father’s, and he had given it to Gregory. Mycroft thought it had been lost after Gregory passed, but here it was, in a case, right in front of him. “I really shouldn’t be surprised that we’ve moved all over and I just followed. You’ve always been the brains of this relationship. Do I usually follow you to whatever the next big adventure is going to be?” Greg asked with a faint laugh, pausing and looking back at him before moving slowly to his side. “What is it?” There was a hand at his back now, rubbing small circles, as he looked to the case in front of them. “Was it yours? It’s beautiful.” 

         “It was yours,” Voice shaky and barely audible, Mycroft almost reached up to touch the glass, stopping before his hand reached the display. “My father gave it to me just before we moved, said that mum had given it to him when they got hitched, and that it was my turn.” There was a small, shaky smile that tugged at the corner of his lips, his heart aching as he looked to the bracelet, knowing it was so close, but that he could not take it home with him. “When you…” Mycroft paused, not being able to bring himself to speak those words. Swallowing hard, he took his eyes off the bracelet and looked to the other. “I had this, along with other possessions, sent with a caravan back to Rome, to be brought back to my home so I could stay for the burial. When I arrived back, I was informed that the caravan never made it, that it had been ambushed by raiders…” Leaning into the other’s touch, he moved to place his hand on the man’s cheek. “I never thought I would see it again, and now… here it is, behind glass, so close, yet in the possession of the one place I despise the most.” Sighing, Mycroft let his hand drop and moved along, no longer wanting to be near the display, knowing that staying there would only make him well up in public. 

         “My,”  Gregory chased after him, catching up and grabbing a hold of his arm to slow him down. “Mycroft, love, come here,” He murmured, bringing them to a bench and sitting them down. “I know it hurts, and that you don’t like this place, but… you know it’s going to be taken care of here, yeah? They’ll respect it, and make sure it doesn’t disappear into ruin like you thought it was. And… I’m here now,” Mycroft kept his eyes down, trying to stop the emotions from spilling over in that moment. He felt absolutely ridiculous, a grown man, crying in a museum over what would seem like a simple bracelet. 

         “It shouldn’t be here though, it should be home, with us. That was stolen from me centuries ago, and now that I know where it is, it should be returned to my family.” Mycroft muttered slowly, forming plans to level himself against the museum, to find a way to get the bracelet back. He practically  _ was  _ the British Government, and one of his closest friends was the Queen of England. “I’m sorry, I have ruined your visit here, that was not my intention. I did not expect for something like this to happen. How can I make it up to you love?” In all honesty, he just wanted to be anywhere but here, away from the horrible reminder of everything he had lost over the years, a reminder of how many times he had been alone, without Gregory. Reaching out, Mycroft took the man’s hands in his own and looked up to him with a shaky smile, his eyes still fighting back tears. 

         “Come on. Let’s go somewhere else, or go back home. I’m here with you now, and we’re together, and you don’t have to think about our past right now, okay? Or we can go back to your club, have tea and not be cold?” Gregory offered, brushing his hand along his hair before leaning in to kiss him. They stood, and Gregory gently kissed him as he looked into his eyes. “There’s nothing to make up, love. We’re going to have our hits and misses with each other, and this was just a major one on my side to you. I’m not angry at you, I’m just sorry I couldn’t have brought back happier memories.” Gregory explained. Nodding, Mycroft slipped out his mobile and called the car, giving himself a few more seconds before they headed to the front. Slipping inside, Mycroft set his hand on Gregory’s knee, smiling as the other started naming other things for them to do. “The portrait gallery, admittedly I’m not one for art, but I know you enjoy it and could tell me the history? What do you think?” 

         “Love, I appreciate your enthusiasm for wanting to make this better, but you didn’t do anything wrong. I agreed to go with you, I knew the risks. I am happy that I have someone who cares so much for me that they are willing to go above and beyond. At the moment though, I am feeling rather… vulnerable, and would rather not be out in public. I hope you can understand. Instead… would you mind if we had a private lunch? I have someone I want you to meet, and I can show you some of our history together.” Lizzy had been pestering him for months about having lunch with Gregory, and Buckingham did hold a lot of history for them both. Admittedly, Gregory had said when they first started talking, that he was afraid to meet her, but they had been together for quite some time now, and if he didn’t see it coming… 

         “Lunch sounds good,” Gregory agreed, settling against his side and resting his head on Mycroft’s shoulder.

*****

         Greg was a bit surprised that Mycroft wanted to bring him to meet someone, but he was always interested in meeting someone else who was part of the man’s life. He only opened his eyes when the car made a wide turn and he heard the window roll down, Mycroft showing the man in the booth his credentials. 

         “Where are… My!” Greg said in disbelief, looking out the window wide eyed before ducking his head down as if he was hiding from anyone who might see. “My, this is bloody Buckingham Palace! I’m wearing jeans! I can’t just… You’re going to introduce me to the Queen like this, aren’t you?” He asked, his face turning bright red in embarrassment as he dragged his hands over his face. “I know you’re going to say she doesn’t care but… oh my god. I should know by now not to trust you when you say you want me to meet a friend of yours.” He moaned, playfully swatting at Mycroft’s knee as he sat back in his seat again to show that he wasn’t actually that upset with him. “I’m not sorry about my tree now. I deserve my tree for this, you know,” 

         “Yes, you are wearing jeans, and if I might add, I am severely underdressed for any day out, and she will make a comment on my dress, not yours. Lizzy has been a friend for years, and she knows you well and wants to see you again. Also, you were never sorry about the tree in the first place love, so this is not a new revelation.” 

         “No, I wasn’t, but now I’m extra not sorry for it,” Greg muttered under his breath, glaring at Mycroft’s hand before taking it and allowing him to lead the way into the palace. 

         “You will be fine, she loves you already and has for years,” He held tight to the Mycroft’s grasp, a bit embarrassed by how nervous he was at the moment, but as far as he was concerned, he was allowed that, since it was the Queen he was about to meet. Someone of  _ his  _ upbringing didn’t just pop in to have tea with someone like her. 

         “I hate you. I love you, but I hate you.” Greg whispered, leaning into the kiss to his forehead and taking a deep breath before they entered the other room. The dining hall was just as opulent as the other rooms they had been through, but to actually be face to face with the Queen like this was surprisingly not as stiff as Greg had thought it would be. 

         “Lizzy, it was so wonderful for you to agree to a last minute lunch like this, but I knew you wouldn’t turn down a chance to see Gregory again,” He was pulled down into a surprisingly tight hug, realising that if it wasn’t for the title she had, she could have easily passed as any other grandmother. 

         “Gregory, it has been too long. Last I saw you, I was just a young girl, and you were my age. How the tables have turned, haven’t they? Well, except for Mycroft here, but that is a different story altogether,” Blinking in surprise as she talked about having known him in a former life, Greg just looked between the two of them as they carried on like old pals. “You’re right Mycroft, he is handsome, and a keeper this time. Better get working,” She elbowed the politician playfully before moving to take her seat, and Greg couldn’t help the blush that was spreading across his cheeks now. “Well, food will be in shortly, take a seat.” Taking the chair Mycroft had pulled out for him, Greg looked to the queen, trying to come up with something more than what he knew about her from grade school. 

         “Sorry, I can’t seem to remember anything from before…” He finally found his voice, looking between the two of them. 

         “Oh, my dear, I apologise. I wanted to surprise you with lunch because you wouldn’t come if I had told you who we were to be seeing. It slipped my mind to explain a little history to you that we all share. I worked for her father when she was young, and of course, I was with you at the time. Actually, you both were quite close, and I left their service when you passed. It wasn’t until much later that I received contact from Lizzy, as she had noticed me at a summit and requested my presence at the palace. I couldn’t hide the truth, but she was trusted as family.” Mycroft reached out and took his hand and Lizzy’s in another, smiling at the both of them. “She was with me through it all, being the first to console me outside of Anthea and Ryan for my loss. She was also very adamant that if I were to find you again in her lifetime, that she would unleash unspeakable horrors if I did not bring you round,” 

         “I am very glad that he did, and I must say, it is a bit different than I had expected, though, I am not sure what I thought it would be like.” 

         “I’m pretty sure those unspeakable horrors would be assigning you pick up duty after the corgis.” Greg teased, laughing at the face Mycroft pulled at the thought, and again when Elizabeth joined in as well. He could only hope that a memory would come back in time so he could share it with her, but so far he had only been able to remember things up to being middle aged, his memories of Sweden, and a few of Germany and France. Other than that, he was completely at a loss. They were all easily distracted by their lunch, which was hot tea with sandwiches and scones and little cakes, all so very posh and proper. 

         “I should have known it would be dangerous either way for me. Bring you here and you gang up on me, or feeling Elizabeth’s wrath. It’s good to know that somethings never change though. Greg was still nervous of making a fool of himself and embarrassing Mycroft, but luckily they seemed to be content to talk amongst themselves. After a while, he was getting up the nerve to join the conversation, about to make a comment, when there was a small paw on his knee. Looking down, he was greeted by a rather happy looking corgi, begging for a treat from the table. 

         “Hi, I don’t know why you expect anything from me. Go ask your mum, or Mycroft.” Greg murmured to the dog, laughing as he scratched behind it’s ears and making it kick out one of it’s legs. “Okay, yes. I’ll pay attention to you. Not like you don’t get enough around here, I’m sure,” Greg was so wrapped up in the dog in front of him, that he didn’t realise the other’s had paused to look in his direction. 

         “It would seem that we have been replaced with the dog, Lizzy.” Greg laughed as he looked up at Mycroft and the Queen, pulling his hand back to his lap only for the dog to shove his nose under his wrist, demanding to be pet some more. 

         “Sorry, I just… like him, her… your dog. Caroline’s allergic and Mycroft doesn’t seem to like them, so I have to take advantage of it when I can. We have bomb dogs at work, but it’s hardly possible to play with them while they are on a case.” He pointed out with a shrug, Elizabeth tutting softly in amusement. 

         “Well you did always enjoy the dogs when I was a young girl, used to play fetch with them when you visited.” She said fondly, Greg’s smile never leaving him as he still wished he could remember more, but was content to trust what they said was true. 

         “I’m sorry I ignored you both, that was probably really rude of me. Sorry,” 

         “Hush darling, wear them out all you like. It saves me the trouble later,” Elizabeth chuckled, waving her hand at him and smiling back. “So, I have known Mycroft for ages, and have heard a lot about you, but I would like to hear it from your side. Please, tell me about yourself, and don’t skip the details.” Greg was slow to answer the Queen, feeling a tad awkward talking about his life when it was not going to be what she remembered of him from her childhood. 

          “Well,” He stalled, trying to know what he was supposed to do or say until Mycroft rested his hand on his knee, silently telling him that whatever he would say, it would be alright. “I um, don’t remember everything, from the past, just little bits here and there. I’ve been trying to piece them together, but I’ve had to accept that I can’t just force it all at once. Usually I just end up with a headache and more frustration. As for  _ this  _ life, I kind of screwed around a lot in secondary, not too serious about what I wanted to do. Somehow I ended up being friends with some coppers and they convinced me that I should try out for the academy, and luckily they were right. Got married right out of the academy to Caroline, though that’s obviously not worked out that great, and just worked my way up. Started on patrols, went to children and families, then transferred to homicides to take a Sergeant position and stuck with it from there. I’ll not go into details of work for obvious reasons. I met up with Mycroft though, because Sherlock decided to randomly appear on an active crime scene and got himself arrested, that was certainly different.” 

         “Mycroft!” Elizabeth scolded, looking over to the politician as his eyes went wide. “You neglected to tell me that Sherlock was using again, and that the reason you found Gregory was because he showed up to a scene high as a kite!?” Mycroft winced, apparently having left that bit of information out. 

         “I’m sorry Lizzy, I didn’t want you to worry. Gregory has successfully cleaned him up, put him through rehab, and is now putting his mind to good use by having him help solve crimes.” Greg felt bad for letting that slip and having the Queen scold him, but Mycroft gave him a small smile to reassure that he hadn’t done anything wrong. “You know that I do not like to talk about Sherlock when he pulls such stunts.” There was a bit of a staring match for a moment before the Queen’s attention was turned back to him. 

         “My dear, would you please accompany me? I have something I have been holding onto since I saw you last, and would like to give it to you. Mycroft, you wait here.” Standing, Elizabeth moved over to him, taking his arm and walking out of the room. As they made their way through the palace, she stopped at a door in the hallway, retrieving a key she kept on a bracelet and unlocked the door. “This used to be my bedroom as a girl, and I still keep things in here from a while ago. I have a photograph of the two of you that Mycroft hasn’t seen. He’s never too fond of people taking his photo, and with good reason.” Reaching out to a small, ornate box, Lizzy pulled out a worn photograph in black and white with a very distinct grain to it. The picture was of Mycroft and Greg, Lizzy sitting in front as they all smiled from a picnic they were having on the lawn of Buckingham palace. The photo must have been candid as none of them were looking straight at the camera, but their smiles were soft and genuine, a look of pure happiness. “Here, I want you to have this dear,” Greg stared down at the picture in shock, carefully taking it from the Queen and studying it, each one of them had the same face, but somehow his was just a little different. 

         “Thank you…” He murmured, not sure how on earth he was going to keep it safe until he got home, but knowing he would immediately speak with Anthea on how to preserve it, or get a copy made to keep it safe. “I um… if it’s not too much to ask, I actually have a favour. I don’t know if you’ll be able to help or not, but… I took My to the British Museum today, and there’s this bracelet there he apparently gave me when we lived in Egypt now on display. He thought he had lost it to robbers way back when, and almost lost it actually in the hall. I know there would be no way I could ever afford to buy it from the museum, even if that were possible, but if there is some way you could get it back to him, I know it would mean a lot.” 

          “I will work on it my dear. Hopefully, I can get it to you in time for Christmas.” Giving Greg a wink, Elizabeth took his arm again as they headed back to the dining room, the photograph being held onto by a staff member who was to return it in a secure package before they left. 

*****

          “I hope that you two haven’t had too much fun without me,” Mycroft smiled, taking another sip of his cooler as the two of the entered the room, their smiles lighting up when he commented about them. “Should have known. I leave you along for a few moments and you are back to being thick as thieves.” Mock sighing, he stood and walked over to them both, his hands clasped behind his back. “Elizabeth, lunch was lovely, and now that Gregory seems to be over his fear of meeting you, I’m sure we can have lunch again soon. You have his number as well, so do feel free to steal him from time to time,” Leaning forward, Mycroft placed a soft kiss on her cheek before standing tall again, his hand now on the small of Gregory’s back. 

          “Thank you very much for today, but I must add, please don’t steal me away or I might have some odd questions for me at work,” Gregory chuckled, leaning forward to say goodbye to the Queen. 

          “It’s good to see you again my dear, it’s been far too long. I promise, I will only have you brought for lunch every once in awhile so we don’t raise suspicion.” 

          “Ready my dear? I think I am ready to return home and curl up by the fire once again.” Mycroft questioned, looking to the other with a soft smile. They were shown out, one of the door men handing him the photograph wrapped in an envelope before they left. 

          “Thank you for bringing me here. I still think you’re insane for springing this on me, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, but the Queen is shockingly down to earth. I can see why the two of you are so close.” 

          “I knew there would be no other way to convince you to come Gregory, but I am glad you found her company to be pleasant. You should have seen the ridiculous situations you two managed to get into when she was younger. She has always been a wild spirit.” Chuckling, Mycroft opened the door to their car, allowing the other to slip in first, and kicking the snow off his shoes before stepping in himself. “What did you two do while you went off alone? I see there is a parcel for you, so she must have given you something.” Mycroft teased, watching as they slipped past the gates and back towards the manor, the streets silent this afternoon, no one wishing to brave the snowy streets. 

          “I haven’t decided if I am going to show it to you or not just yet. I’ll make up my mind later.” Gregory chuckled, leaning in to place a soft kiss on his cheek. “Don’t worry about it. Also, don’t worry about us, I don’t think we’ll be getting into too much trouble now. I will say that we talked about when she was little, and that we would spend time together. I do wish I could remember that.” Leaning in, Mycroft cupped the man’s cheek and brought him close, pressing a soft and gentle kiss to his lips. 

          “All in good time my love. You will remember it soon, I know you will,” His voice was almost a whisper as he placed a few more lingering kisses to the man’s lips, nothing too heated, but enough to show love and compassion. “If either of us should worry about something, it should be me worrying about you and Lizzy getting on so well and already keeping secrets from me,” Mycroft gave him a playful glare, trusting the other, and not even worrying about the package. If Gregory wanted to show him at some point, then so be it, but it hadn’t hurt him to not know thus far. The rest of the car ride went in silence, the both of them sitting close and Mycroft’s hand on Gregory’s knee. 

          Entering the house, Mycroft took the other’s jacket, hanging it up with his own and their scarves. Making their way back to the lounge, Mycroft set to work on the fire, Gregory making his way to the kitchen to get them a few drinks. Settling on the couch, he thanked the other for his tea, taking a few sips before staring blankly at the fire. 

          “I didn’t mean to get you in trouble with the Queen, by the way. I didn’t realise it was a bit of a reoccurring theme with Sherlock. He’s doing a good job though, not the most popular person on the team, but no one hates him.” 

          “No worries love, she wasn’t truly angry. Trust me, that is a sight you never wish to see.” Mycroft chuckled, letting the silence fall between them, nothing awkward, just peace and happiness in each other’s company. When he had finished his cup, Mycroft set the glasses down on the side table, taking Gregory’s as well and shifting into a more comfortable position for the two of them. Reaching up, he started to run his hand through the man’s hair, still staring into the fire, enchanted by the dancing flames. “I can’t say I have been this relaxed in a long time Gregory, and it’s not just because we are having a lazy sit it.” It was very rare that he got the day to himself, let alone a day where his phone didn’t ring or chime every few minutes with questions and demands from work. Anthea had made sure that for these next few weeks during the holiday and until Christmas and New Years had passed, that he was not to be disturbed while at home. “I am content to lay here all evening, but I’m sure you will once again become restless. Is there something you wish to do? We have gone out for today, so something we can do around the house?” 

          “Board games?” That was not what he was expecting at all, his brow furrowing as he looked to the other with surprise. Of course, Gregory nearly fell over laughing when he saw the look on his face, quickly telling him it was a joke. “I’m joking, I really am. Though there’s some funny card games out there. I am content just like this, honestly. More than anything, I wanted to do something just the two of us, and… lunch might not have only been just us, but it was something specific to us, so I think that was a good trade.” Gregory shrugged, wrapping an arm around his middle and holding him close with a content sigh. “Sorry I get fidgety sometimes. We could trying doing one of your more involved recipes, depending on what we have. I know you’re hesitant in the kitchen, but you’re definitely a good food prep.” Gregory teased softly, another kiss placed on his cheek. “I think I’ve learned just as much about you through your favourite dishes as I have just from talking together.” 

          “I don’t know how you could possibly think of food after we just finished such a large meal,” Mycroft teased, laying his head back against the end of the sofa and pulling Gregory down with him, just holding the other man close. “I’m sure we’ll find something to do later. I’m actually rather tired, could use a small cat nap. Feel free to watch telly or sleep as well, but I’m just going to shut my eyes for bit, if that is alright with you.” Since the other had been coming round more often, Mycroft was getting into a good sleeping habit, but he still wasn’t quite used to getting more than four hours or so a night. Letting out a small yawn, Mycroft handed the remote over to the other before turning his head to lay on the man’s chest, closing his eyes and just listening to the other’s breathing. 

          It didn’t take long for him to slip into a light sleep, no dreams, but it was still refreshing enough. He woke a few hours later, still on the couch with Gregory, his limbs a tad stiff from the position he had been in. Groaning, he moved to stretch, careful not to fall off the couch. 

          “Good morning,” His voice was heavy, sleep riddled, and rough as he cleared his throat, yawning again and moving to sit up. “How long was I out for?” 

          “Still evening love, though a bit past dinner for a real meal. You’ve been asleep for about three hours. I’d say I’m worried you won’t sleep tonight, but I know better.” Mycroft’s brain was fuzzy as the other leaned in to kiss him, barely able to make a conscious response as he hummed. 

          “I didn’t expect I would have slept for that long.” Licking his lips, Mycroft saw that the fire had died down and the telly was set to a low volume. “I’m sorry I kept you from dinner, are you hungry? Give me a few moments and I can be awake enough to help with whatever you need,” Normally, Mycroft was a morning person, able to wake quickly and be to work and productive within just a half an hour of waking. Naps, on the other hand, seemed to have the opposite effect on him, taking him far longer to come to. 

           “I’m a bit hungry, yeah, but I’m thinking something simple like grilled cheese or cereal. I’m more lazy right now than anything,” Gregory grinned, moving with him to the kitchen as they both dug around to see what there was in the fridge to make that wouldn’t take long. Soon enough, Gregory just pulled out a bowl and settled on cereal, not even moving to the table, instead just eating it at the counter. “You don’t have to eat just because I am. I won’t feel abandoned. Did you sleep well? I know you’ve started taking naps a bit more often, and you have a sleep schedule that probably only makes sense to you,” 

          “Believe me my dear, it has baffled me as well,” Mycroft chuckled, thanking the other when he offered a spoonful of cereal, but turning it down. Most times he did eat because Gregory was, but without the man, he could go for long periods of time without, just like his brother. Being with Gregory changed a lot of things for him; His sleep pattern, how much he ate, his sex drive, basically his internal clock completely turned around. It wasn’t a bad thing, just an adjustment he had to make every time the other came back. Watching him with a small smile, Mycroft sat in silence, still bringing himself back from sleep and enjoying Gregory’s company. It was a week left till Christmas, then they could finally take a short break, and for the first time in a long time, he would be free of responsibility. “Gregory dear, I was thinking… I would love to take you on holiday some time, out of the country? If that’s too much too soon, tell me and I will forget until later.” Mycroft trailed off, looking to the other, trying to read his blank expression. 

          “How about for our one year?” The other offered with a soft smile. “That’ll give us some time to settle in, and we can decide where we want to go, celebrate us in a way.” Gregory explained, finishing off the last bit of his cereal. “Maybe you could take me somewhere we’ve lived before, but actually there, not a museum.” 

          “We could always go to Rome, where we first met. The Pantheon still stands, so it wouldn't be too hard. My original home is no longer there, but I could show you where it was, and where we lived?” Mycroft suggested, moving to grab a sparkling water from the fridge to drink. “We could go about the town, and I could show you different places that are special for us, like where we were first married, where we had our first  _ real  _ time, our first date, anything. Rome holds a lost of history for us, and I feel like it would be an appropriate location.” He smiled, rubbing his hand along the other’s back and leaning in to place a kiss on his cheek. “Plus, maybe it would unlock some more memories?” Traveling had never been particularly easy until the past century, so he had never attempted to bring Gregory back to someplace they had history. Maybe it would help, maybe it wouldn’t. Either way, traveling down memory lane with him by his side would be a lovely holiday. 

          “That would be perfect.” 


	13. XII

          The lead up to Christmas was as drama free as possible for a couple that worked among the highest levels of government, and within homicides in London, and while they weren’t able to celebrate Christmas morning together, they were able to have their evening. Gregory had bought some poppers to share, and was buzzing in excitement about one of his gifts, apparently a joint effort between himself and Anthea, for Mycroft. They were just waiting for the two of them to come, having invited Anthea and Ryan over for the holidays as well. Letting out a huff, Mycroft rolled his eyes as Gregory handed him a box with excitement, trying to show that he was happy because the other was, but also chiding the other for having bought him gifts when they had agreed he wanted nothing. Anthea, being the saint that she was, had gone out and purchased gifts on his behalf for Gregory as well as for a few others, Lizzy, Sherlock, his parents and his employees. Sitting up straight, Mycroft tried his best not to deduce what was in the box, and so far, had been fairly successful, and was surprised when the first gift he had opened was a beautiful chess set that Gregory had apparently consulted with Sherlock on. Lifting the lid, Mycroft looked down at the book, taking a moment to realise what it was.

          “So? What do you think?” Gregory was practically sitting on the edge of his seat, a smile spread across his features. Mycroft carefully lifted the recipe book out from the box, flipping through the pages, his heart swelling. Gregory must have worked with Anthea for quite some time, translating all of those recipes he had gathered over the years, and now, here they all were, in English for him to use. 

          “You did all of this?” His voice was soft, looking to the other with a small smile. “Gregory, I-I don't…. I’m speechless. I feel a bit useless now in the kitchen as you won’t need me for translating anymore, but love…” Mycroft trailed off, his heart touched. Gregory always had been best at giving gifts, the man caring so much and putting every ounce of love into whatever he made or bought. “I feel like those suits I got you don’t do this justice,” Moving to stand, Mycroft walked over to the other and placed a gentle kiss on his lips, pressing his forehead against Gregory’s. “Thank you, this means more than I can say,”

          “You are a wonderful help prepping things for me, and I love our time together when we cook. It’s a bit more of a gift to you for me to use.”  Just then, a knock came from the door and Anthea and Ryan came in, holding a few more bags and some eggnog.

          “Good evening you two, and happy Christmas!” Anthea smiled, moving to say hello to each of them as she set the bags down, and leaning in to whisper something in Gregory ear. Mycroft’s brow furrowed as he looked to the two of them, noting the gift that Anthea had handed him, and that Gregory was now trying to hide.

         “It’s a surprise, for later. Trust me, yeah? We can open it after dinner.” Mycroft’s was about to make a smart comment when his attention was pulled away from a box being set in his lap by Ryan.

         “From Anthea and I,” He explained, smiling as he took a seat next to her, the woman giving him a knowing smile. Normally she respected his wishes about no gifts, but it would seem that it was a full on mutiny this year.

         “Hurry up My, open your gift. I want to do poppers because I want to see you wear a paper crown for the rest of the night!” Gregory teased while Mycroft just rolled his eyes. Sighing, he carefully unwrapped the present that ended up being a small, velvet box. He knew what would be inside, cuff links, as he couldn’t imagine what other jewelry would be suitable for him, but he was rather surprised when he found a tie pin instead.

         “Told ya he wouldn’t guess it,” Ryan smiled, looking over to Anthea with a triumphant gaze. Mycroft gave him a playful glare as the other chuckled, smiling and giving thanks to both of them before turning to Gregory who now had a small pile of things next to him.

         “Looks like it is your turn love,” Mycroft smiled, crossing his legs and grabbing his drink, taking another sip and waiting as the other made sure he had all of their attentions. Of course, the other still had to be on about those ridiculous poppers, and handed them out now, the confetti sprinkling everywhere as well as a small bundle of paper falling from each of them. “I have a crown Gregory, but I am not one to wear it. I will put it on if you want, so you can see, but it will be coming right off,” Mycroft teased, unfolding the delicate paper and holding it out.

         “Long enough to get a picture!” Gregory argued, laughing when Ryan immediately pulled out his phone.

         “Ryan you put away that camera phone now! Gregory, if you are going to take that picture, it must be on a camera, not a phone. Don’t need it circulating around the internet. Sorry love, security and all that.” Mycroft playfully scolded Ryan, waiting until he was sure the only one taking a picture was Gregory before putting the crown on, and it was off as soon as he had snapped the picture. Besides the bespoke suits that he had got for Gregory earlier, he had put the nice fondue set under the tree for him as well as some fondue cookbooks and a new apron for him to wear in the kitchen.

         “I love them all, thank you guys, really,” Gregory beamed, looking genuinely pleased. Anthea and Ryan took turns as well, opening their gifts. Anthea had bought something on his part for Ryan and in turn, he had given Ryan his card to shop for Anthea. Mycroft was never quite sure what Anthea or Ryan would want, seeing as they all had been alive for centuries and had everything they could possibly want. They settled into a nice evening, having a dinner of fondue as promised and enjoying drinks while sharing stories. Normally he spent Christmas alone, not really celebrating the holiday, but this year, as much as he complained, Mycroft was happy to spend this time with them, a smile on his face throughout the evening. Faster than any of them had expected, the clock chimed a late hour and they moved to say their goodbyes, Anthea and Ryan packing up their things and heading towards the front door.

         “Thank you again my dear,” Mycroft kissed Anthea’s cheek, smiling as he turned towards Ryan and gave him a handshake before they stepped out into the cold. “Be safe and drive carefully,” Gregory shut the door and moved to pull him close, placing a cool kiss on his lips as they leaned against the wall.

         “Thank you for tonight. I know you weren’t excited about celebrating, but it was nice.”

         “Anything for you my dear, just keep that photo to yourself.” Mycroft chuckled, looking the other over with a smile. Gregory ran his hands over Mycroft’s chest, his eyes suddenly going wide as he looked back up to him.

         “Oh! I have one more present, and I swear, I’m not usually this good at giving gifts, but… um… well, let’s go get it?” They moved back to the lounge where the tree was, the small box sitting on the sofa by itself.

         “Ah yes, the one you tried to hide. Gregory, I told you no presents at all, now here you are, having given me multiple gifts already and now another?” Looking down at the tag, he recognised that handwriting, and he should have known. Elizabeth. Looking the small box over, his mind went back to the lunch they had and when she took Gregory off and gave him something. It was possible that something was in this box, maybe something of theirs they had left in the forties? Slowly taking the paper off, the box was a beautiful wood, plain, with no markings on the outside, but a deep, dark colour that shined. Looking up to the other with a raised brow, his fingers unhooked the lock and slowly opened the lid. Mycroft’s heart stopped, his eyes landing on the object inside, his hands frozen as the world stopped and zeroed in to the object in his hands. “Gregory…” Choking back a sob, Mycroft could feel the tears prick at his eyes, his hand moving up to cover his mouth.

          “I um… when we visited Buckingham, and the Queen took me aside, I told her about the bracelet and how much it meant to you. I don’t know how she managed to do it, and to be fair I didn’t think it would happen so fast…” Tears streaked down his cheeks in silence, his heart pounding as he looked down to the bracelet. Hesitating, it took a moment before he reached out and touched it, making sure this wasn’t a dream.

          “Gregory, I can’t… how…” Mycroft was speechless, completely and totally without words. Just a couple weeks ago, he had thought the bracelet was lost forever, having been stolen by bandits. Now, here it was, after having found it in the British Museum of all places, in his hands once more. It looked just like he remembered, down to the nicks and small scratches it had accrued while Gregory wore it. Looking up to the other, his mouth open and tears rolling down his face, Mycroft hoped that Gregory could see all he wanted to say, but didn’t have the words for.

          “I love you too, My. You’d have to ask Elizabeth how she was able to do all this, all I did was tell her about the bracelet and gave her a description, she did everything else.” Gregory chuckled, reaching up and wiping away his tears that fell down his cheeks. “You’ve got to stop this love, or I’ll start crying too. I’m happy you’re happy. I know I don’t get much right sometimes, but… I’m glad I was able to do this. Even if I’m not with you forever this time, I want to do right by you. I have to remember as much as I do for a reason.”

          “Oh Gregory,” Mycroft’s features went soft as he looked to the other with love and adoration, the man making his heart flutter. “Forever or not this time, I love you and you have already done so much for me. I can’t begin to think how I could ever make it up to you.” Mycroft chuckled through his tears, moving to carefully set the box aside and wrap his arms around the man’s neck again, burying his face and taking a few deep breaths. “I will never understand how I was fortunate enough to have you as my partner for life. There is no one as sweet, kind, caring and gentle as you. You have such a great smile, a sense of humour and a big heart.” Kissing the man’s temple, he pressed his forehead against the others, looking into those beautiful chocolate eyes. “Not to mention, you’re incredibly handsome, and your body…” Letting out an appreciative groan, Mycroft laughed softly as he looked to the other. “I couldn’t ask for more.”

          “Foolish Man, come on. Let’s go celebrate Christmas just the two of us.” Walking up the stairs, Mycroft followed Gregory to the bedroom and laid down on the bed, placing a hand on the man’s cheek and pulling him close for a kiss. “My brilliant lover, my gorgeous man. I would have nothing now if it wasn’t for you.”

          “I didn’t realise it was considered foolish to find a man such as yourself and hold onto him,” Mycroft purred, his own hands moving to cup the man’s cheek and card through that hair, pulling him in close again for another heated kiss. His eyes were dark with lust, a predatory grin playing on his lips as he kissed the man, running his tongue over the other’s and begging permission to enter. When he heard Gregory whimper beneath him and open up, Mycroft took full advantage, exploring, testing, and teasing every last bit of the others mouth, his one hand still holding tight to his hair, the other now running down his side. Slipping a hand under the fabric of Gregory’s shirt, he pulled it up and let his fingers skirt over the man's muscles, loving the feeling of having him beneath him. The way he moved and tossed when he was writing with pleasure gave him a high that he had never felt in any other capacity.

          “I love you,” Gregory whispered between kisses, his nails trailing over Mycroft's back. “You wear too much clothes, you know that? Though I guess it fits, as I’m able to unwrap you as one last gift for tonight,”  

          “I will never tire of hearing those words from you, my love.” Mycroft gasped, trailing his hot breath over the man’s ear as he nipped at his lobe. “Mmm, you keep making comments about my dress, but I see how you look at me when I wear my suits, that excited you just as much as seeing me in little clothing,” His voice was deep as his hands held tight to the other’s hips, trying to stay still so Gregory could rid him of said clothing. When the other had managed to slip off his shirt, vest and undershirt, Mycroft moved to help Gregory shed his clothing as well, loving the feel of skin on skin. “Happy Christmas dear, though I am sure you have outshone me this time. I can’t thank you enough or show you how much your gifts mean to me, but I hope to make a little of it up to you tonight. Anything you want. I also may have snagged your cuffs, so if you wish to use those, feel free to, they are in the side drawer.” Mycroft purred, biting down a bit rough on the man’s collarbone. Gregory gasped a low moan at that before he wrapped his arms around Mycroft’s waist and turned them over, pinning him to the bed.

         “I just might have to punish you for taking my things,” The D.I easily located his cuffs in the side drawer and fastened his wrists to the slats of the headboard, sitting back and looking down at him with a proud grin on his face. “Tell me to stop and I’ll get you out immediately, alright?”

         “Safe word is miel, if I remember correctly,” Mycroft flashed with a dark smile, looking to the other with patience and anticipation. It had been too long since he had seen a darker side of his lover, and just the thought of the possibilities were enough to have him achingly hard and wanton. His thoughts were derailed though when the other sucked marks into his thighs again, knowing that by the end of the night, those wouldn’t be the only marks he would be left with.

         “I could do anything I wanted to this beautiful body of yours right now… and all I can think about is that cock of yours inside of me as fast as possible,” Mycroft hissed as that tongue slowly ran over his skin, his hands wanted to move to card through those silver locks, but were held back by the sting of metal against his wrists. He realised that he was going to pay for suggesting cuffs tonight.

         “If you want my cock inside of you, then take it. Stop all this damned teasing!” Mycroft growled, wriggling and trying to take back some control. That was what he loved most about this though, he _always_ had control, so letting Gregory take over and losing it, was the hottest thing to see from the other. All of his trust was with the man in front of him, begging, whimpering, and writhing under that touch.

         “Watch your mouth, you’re not the one in charge here,” Gregory warned, getting off the bed and tugging the sheets to the side so they wouldn’t get tangled in them. The man trailed his fingers lightly over his arms, nipping ever so gently at the tender flesh along his wrists before making his way down his body. “I’m sure you know that the teasing is where half the fun is.” Gregory was now back between his legs, looking up at him with a playful grin. “Now, are you going to behave?” Wrapping his fingers around the chain links at his wrist, Mycroft let out a huff of air as the other looked to him.

         “That depends, how often do I behave myself around you? Also, where would the fun be if I didn’t fight back, I’m sure you will have just as much fun _trying_ to break me, to get me to beg, plead, and behave at your command, am I right?” Mycroft challenged, giving the other a rather devious smile and wink as he stilled. His smiled quickly turned to a hiss when the other bit at the sensitive skin on his thigh, his eyes going darker as he looked to the man between his legs once more. Gregory chuckled, kissing along his legs until he was at his groin, nuzzling along the hot flesh and carefully sucking one of his balls into his mouth. Mycroft’s eyes fluttered closed as he tugged at the cuffs once more, groaning in frustration as he was held back.

          “Feel like behaving yet?” Gregory asked, pulling away and smiling to him. Mycroft was going to hold out for as long as he could, push as much as he could and make Gregory work for it.

          “As lovely as that was, you are going to have to try harder than that my dear,”

          “I should have cuffed you on your stomach,” Mycroft was about to quip back when his legs were lifted up onto Gregory’s shoulders and that sinful tongue was teasing and tasting him, lapping over his most sensitive areas and opening him up slowly. A loud moan ripped from his chest when he felt those thick fingers press into him, a bit of pain mixed with the pleasure as he felt them fast and deep. God, that was what he wanted, more of _that_ kind of behaviour. Shifting his hips, Mycroft tried to have more, tried to buck into the other’s touch, but as always, the man was rather good at keeping him on edge and not giving him what he wanted.

         “Is that all you have? Those fingers are lovely, but you’ve done worse things before Gregory,” The politician quipped between breaths, hoping to spur the other on, to push him further and bring out his more dominant side.

         “Oh, my precious man, this is just the start. Still trying to decide if I’m going to ride you with my hand still in you, or if I’m going to fuck you with my fingers and my cock.” Gregory casually mentioned with a shrug, looking as though he couldn’t be arsed either way. “Actually, I might just do both. You always talk yourself up about how much you can take, think you can do that for me, My? Take my hand and my cock in that beautiful arse of yours?”

         “Easily my love,” Mycroft growled, grinding his hips down and trying to keep a calm and collected facade, not wanting the other to know exactly what those fingers were doing to him, especially as they were so close to hitting that sweet spot. He could feel the ache in the stretch, the man scissoring him and opening him up wide. “Maybe you’re right Gregory. You did say you feel a tad vanilla this time, and I can see why now. Compared to your past lives, this is rather soft. Still delicious, don’t get me wrong, but nothing as domineering as you used to be.” Feigning indifference, Mycroft hoped that was enough to push the man over the edge. Whimpering, Mycroft bucked his hips as the other pulled his fingers out, but those noises quickly turning to hisses when the other landed a smack on his arse and dropped his legs back on the bed. A groan escaped his lips as he looked back to the other, just in time to see him slicking up his cock and moving to press in. Mycroft’s jaw went slack as he felt the man enter him, the fingers right along with it, the pressure stinging with the pain as he felt him go in hard and fast, the pleasure coursing through his body alongside the pain. _This,_ is what he was looking for, more of _these_ actions.

         “Is that enough for you yet? Or should I leave you since I am apparently boring you?” Gregory hissed, his tone harsh as he thrust in.

         “Fuck, yes, more please, use me, be rough, Gregory, yes.” Mycroft gritted through clenched teeth, his hips grinding against the other, desperate for more, his breath catching in his throat. “Rough, please, use me. I know you can, ah! God, yes, I love it when you take control,”

         “I ought to gag you from how much you keep talking back to me,” Gregory warned, flexing those fingers as he thrust in again and again. “And next time, I’m definitely cuffing you on your stomach, cheeky bastard. God, I’ve never felt someone like this before, My… Christ.”

         “Do as you wish,” Mycroft growled, letting out a deep moan as he felt the other press into him hard again, his vision starting to go fuzzy. “I’m not fragile, Gregory! Fuck me!” He snapped, his wrists starting to feel a tad raw from the metal that was chafing his skin. The extra girth from the man’s added fingers was starting to send him into a haze, whimpering as the other kept him right on the edge.

         “Mind your tongue,” He was warned again, as the other gave him a few more thrusts, that tell tale sign of an orgasm rushing through him before the other pulled out. Choking back a sob, Mycroft looked down at Gregory as he added lube to his weeping cock and moved to straddle his hips, taking his cock and guiding it up to his own entrance as he sunk down. “You were so desperate to move before, now move!” Mycroft let out a groan from the heat and tightness of the other’s arse.

         “Fuck, Gregory, yes please, more, yes, harder, rough, fuck me, please,” Doing as he was told, it took him a moment to figure out a good rhythm, which was thrown off when the other added those thick fingers back to his own arse. Mycroft groaned as he stilled for a moment, before finding a pace that would move himself up into that sinfully delicious, tight heat, as well as back down onto those thick, rough fingers. Mycroft could feel his orgasm coiling in his stomach, that heat spreading as his muscles ached to keep up the pace. He wouldn’t last much longer like this, that was for certain.

         “Is this good enough for you? Or should I just get you some toys and you can take care of yourself?” Mycroft's back arched up off the bed as the man pressed hard against his prostate, practically screaming from the burst of pleasure.

         “God no, Gregory, never. Please, never leave, AH!” Gregory was relentless, pressing against the spot over and over again. “Fuck, Gregory, yes, more please, only you, please, I need to… I’m so close,” It was all he could manage, short sentences, cut off by another press of that man’s finger, and he knew, he wasn’t going to last much longer.

         “Come for me, My, just like this,” That was all it took, all it ever took to have him reeling over the edge, the other clamping down around him, as well, in his own tidal wave of pleasure. Mycroft was a panting mess as he lay on the bed, the post orgasmic haze starting to set in as the other lay next to him. “I love you,” Gregory whispered, pressing a kiss into his forehead before he grabbed a key and unlocked the cuffs, moving then to leave and grab a cloth to clean up, leaving it in the hamper and settling back at his side. “That was a wonderful Christmas gift my love, just…” Gregory went a tad silent, looking as if he were debating whether or not to say what was on his mind. Furrowing his brow, Mycroft looked to the other with concern. “Please don’t call me boring again My, Caroline did that and I just can’t…”

         “Love no, no, I’m so sorry, I didn’t call you boring, didn’t mean to, you are anything but.” God he was such an idiot, of course he had got so caught up in the game, his mind didn’t see how that could have been misconstrued. Turning to face the other and cup his cheek, Mycroft let a thumb brush across the man’s face. “I’m so terribly sorry, Gregory. It will not happen again, and frankly, I’m sorry you heard it that way tonight. You are anything but, and you are more than I could ever ask for or deserve. I’m a stupid fool who doesn’t think before speaking,”

         “I forgive you. You got caught up in the game is all. I love you, and it doesn’t work to keep things from one another, even if I know you didn’t mean anything by it, that’s the only reason I’m bringing it up.” Gregory moved his hand so he could kiss the inside of his wrist, looking back up to him with a soft expression. “I’m glad I got to spend Christmas with you, and tomorrow, neither of us work so we can have a nice lie in, the two of us. You know, as long as I don’t find myself out on a case, the top of the NSY has some pretty good views for fireworks on New Year’s Eve. It would be great if we could bring it in together…”

         “Top of the NSY, or possibly… our own private ride to the top of the Eye to watch them? We could invite friends and family, or just have it be us.” Mycroft had never been one to visit the tourist attractions in London, except when he was with Gregory. Since the Eye had only been around for six years or so, and no one but the Queen herself and some rich dignitaries could afford or even request a private ride, so Mycroft highly doubted that Gregory had done such a thing. “No matter where we are, I will be glad that this will mark the incoming year where I don’t have to be alone, that you’ll be right by my side.” Leaning in, Mycroft pressed a soft kiss to the man’s cheek, closing his eyes and lying still. “I can’t imagine a better way to bring in the year,” His voice was soft as he hummed, his breathing slowing as he felt himself start to drift.

         “I’ll be on duty this year, so I know I won’t be able to do anything but the top of our building, but a lot of us do it, so it’s not that big of a deal. Maybe next year we could do the Eye?” Humming in agreement, Mycroft moved to grab the blankets before he fully let go, not wanting to make the other move around him, and cuddled up even closer to Gregory.

         “Sounds perfect. I love you Gregory, more than I will ever be able to say.”

         “I love you too, My.”

 


	14. XIII

          It was chilly outside, and there was still snow unfortunately, but thankfully, it wasn’t as bad as it had been, and it looked like spring was on it’s way. New Years sadly had not gone as they had hoped, instead a rather large case popped up for Gregory and took nearly two weeks to close. Padding out to the living room, a tray in his hands with tea, cream and sugar, Mycroft set them down on the table before taking a seat and letting Gregory spread out and lay his head on his lap. 

          “You know valentine’s day is coming up,” Mycroft was just about to take a sip when the holiday was brought up, his movements pausing for a moment as he tensed, trying not to show disdain on his face. It must have showed because Gregory chuckled and looked back up to him with a smile. “You mean you don’t like pink, heart covered everything?” 

          “I know you are aware of my distaste for these inane holidays you keep wishing to celebrate, and don’t think me unobservant Gregory, I know you are doing this because you seem to find it funny how I react.” Mycroft didn’t even try and hide his frown now, setting his cup down and trying to think of something other than the sappy, romantic filled mess that was valentine's day. 

          “You always talk about how you like doting on me, and this is a holiday all about that. In pink, glittery cards and overpriced chocolates that go on sale the next day.” Gregory had somehow maneuvered so that he was wrapping his arms around Mycroft’s waist, his face buried in his stomach as he tried to hide the giant grin that played across his features. 

          “I don’t need a holiday to tell me that I should dote on my partner, Gregory. I feel that if someone tells me to do so, it cheapens the sentiment behind it.” Moving back a tad, the man looked up to him, a soft smile on his face as he reached for one of his hands, bringing it down to his lips as he kissed his wrist. 

          “I like being silly with you, and I promise I won’t humiliate you out in public or at your office by doing something insane to draw attention to you, but that doesn’t mean I will be holding back this year and having some fun. You have to admit, though, valentine's cherubs are far better than what they used to be… much less… nightmarey,” Rolling his eyes and trying to hide the small smile he wanted to give to the other at his childish nature for holidays, Mycroft sighed and shook his head as he looked to the other. 

          “I will not admit anything concerning cherubs, or any other figure for these insipid holidays, as I think all of it is very ‘nightmarey’ as you so aptly named it.” Gregory had never been  _ this  _ insistent on celebrating every little holiday he could think of, but Mycroft shrugged it off to a little quirk he had picked up during this life. “The only one who will be partaking in sweets as well, for that matter, will be you. I am on a diet and cannot let myself slip for some pink, heart shaped chocolates or candied sugar that has ridiculous love messages written on them.” After the other gave him his hand back, Mycroft rested it on Gregory’s chest, moving to grab his book from the side table and looking to read and not think anymore of the upcoming day. Luckily, Gregory didn’t fight him too hard on the subject, but he had a feeling this wouldn’t be the last time he would hear about it from him. Mycroft idly ran his fingers over the man’s arm and chest as he felt him go still, his breathing slowing as he fell into a light sleep. Smiling, he looked down at the other, loving the way he always looked so peaceful at rest. They stayed like that for a few hours, Mycroft finishing his book and Gregory sleeping the afternoon away until he woke himself with a rather loud snore. Chuckling, Mycroft raised an amused eyebrow at the other when he opened his eyes, a small smile creeping over his features. 

          “Don’t look at me like that, you know I’ll sleep anywhere,” Gregory laughed, sitting up with a groan and stretching his arms above his head. “Didn’t quite expect to fall asleep like that, though. You’re very comfortable.” 

          “I know you’ll sleep anywhere, and I envy that talent you have, but to wake yourself with your own snore, now that’s new.” Mycroft teased, moving to put his book down, and watching the other as he stretched and brought himself out of his sleepy haze. 

          “Better than waking up with a nudge to the back to roll over,” Gregory shot back with a smirk, finally settling back on the couch. “And the only reason I’ve learned to sleep wherever I can is because my body could never run on just four hours of sleep, and with the job, it was born out of necessity. I do feel a bit guilty for sleeping the day away… but I know you will say that you don’t mind, but still, we should do something different before the day is gone. I’d say go for a walk, but that would involve your security team and I want something more private.” 

          “You haven’t slept the day away, and my dear, we still have tomorrow,” Mycroft thought for a moment, wondering what they could do that would be private, and a nice way to spend time together. “You know, I do have an idea. Just outside of the city, about an hour or more from here, we have a private cottage in the middle of the country, and because it is so remote, the security is almost non-existent. There is one person within a few minutes driving distance for emergencies, but other than that, we would be completely alone. We could pack up, head there for the evening, spend the night, and come back home tomorrow evening?” It had been a while since he had been out to the cottage, normally only having gone there when his family wanted to get together, but it would be nice to get away and go with Gregory. 

          “I love you, you know that? That sounds brilliant, our own little mini holiday. Let’s take my car so we don’t have to bother your drivers, it can truly be just us and you can navigate.” Gregory was practically beaming, leaning in and kissing Mycroft happily. 

          “Shall we pack a suitcase and go? It would be nice to show you where my family stayed for holiday.” Heading upstairs to their bedroom, it only took a moment to pack for an overnight stay and they were on their way out, piling into Greg’s car and easily finding their way out of the city. 

          “You know, I should blame you for making my impulsiveness worse. Before you, the worst I would get is going for a run or having that second beer. Now here we are, going on a last second holiday and I wouldn’t even put it past you, if I were to randomly say I wanted to spend the night in Italy, that you would make it happen without it being a big deal or anything,” Gregory chuckled, glancing over to him and reaching out to squeeze his hand. “Hardly complaining, by the way, but I don’t think I will ever get used to it. Not sure I want to, to be honest. The novelty of it all is sort of what makes it so amazing.” 

          “Well, we do have homes in Greece, Heidelberg and Rome, so we can always go there. Even if we didn’t, I have families that would welcome us with open arms for a visit,” Mycroft smiled, helping with the navigation, but putting his mobile in the glove box so he could have his entire focus be on Gregory. Mycroft had already informed Anthea where they would be going and that he was not to be disturbed until they returned tomorrow, and he knew she would be able to handle anything that came in during his absence. “I also don’t mind being the reason you want to go and travel the world my love, after all, you are the one who inspires me to move from country to country. We have lived all over Europe, and maybe someday, you will have us live on other continents.” As they drove, Mycroft listened to Gregory chat about all sorts of things, giving him directions here and there, and just enjoying the couple hour drive together. When they pulled up to the cottage, Mycroft smiled, having fond memories of their summer home and feeling a bit of nostalgia, as the last time he was here Gregory had been with him. Though, that was over a hundred years ago. 

          “You know, when you said a cottage… I was thinking maybe half this size? It’s adorable though, looks like a fairytale.” Gregory chuckled, and Mycroft rolled his eyes with a smile as he stepped out of the car and to the boot so that he could grab their belongings. 

          “Yes, well, we have to have enough room for a family of four to stay for extended periods of time,” They would usually spend their summer get togethers here, the family coming together ever once in a great while to spend time with one another. 

          “Have you brought me here before? Can’t say I remember for sure, but it’s that deja vu thing looking around here. Thank you by the way, for bringing me here,” The man was all smiles as he stepped into the house, looking around before coming back to his side and wrapping his arms around his waist, moving in to place a few kisses on his lips. 

          “I have brought you here before, just once though, as we haven’t owned this property for very long. I’m glad to have you back here though, it’s always nice when it doesn’t feel so empty,” Mycroft smiled, humming as the man kissed him slowly. 

          “Do you happen to have bug spray here? We should go out tonight, but I don’t want to be bit to hell. I’m sure we could see the milky way out here. I haven’t gone stargazing in…. Christ, I couldn’t have been more than ten or so.” 

          “Yes, supplies are in the facilities down the hall, and we can go out at night, but I’m not sure how much you will be able to see,” Mycroft chuckled at Gregory’s enthusiasm, moving to bring their bags to his room, and unpacking the few things they had, setting them in the dresser and nightstand. Mycroft had made sure to pack a few sweaters and casual wear, knowing that there wasn’t anyone to dress up for, and it would be a tad nicer here than in London, what with their being hardly any snow on the ground. Moving down to the kitchen, he looked around to see if they had enough to make something for dinner, or if they would have to go shopping at the small market just inside the town. It looked like the house hadn’t been visited in awhile, so a short walk was necessary. “Gregory my dear, do you want to write a list of ingredients down so you know what we have? We need to head out to the village to pick a few things up, there isn’t much to work with here.” After a few moments, Gregory padded into the kitchen and looked to him with a smile, coming up behind him and placing his arms around his waist as they looked into the fridge. 

          “Sort of depends on what you want to do for dinner. Would you like to make a whole meal, or would you prefer something simple like some sandwiches? We could always do something as simple as chicken and veggies, which, is not the most exciting thing, but easy and we wouldn’t need to worry about extra food to bring back with us.” 

          “Rosemary chicken with those wonderful garlic potatoes you make?” Mycroft suggested, moving to stand and turn within the other’s grasp, and looking to him with a sense of pride in naming a recipe that Gregory had made for him before. “I believe there is a vendor who also sells eggs out of the carton as well, so we don’t have to buy any more than we have to and you can make us breakfast,” He smiled, shutting the fridge and pulling out his wallet, making sure he had cash on him as he was certain they didn’t take cards at the market. 

          “Yeah, I can do that,” Gregory kissed his cheek and moved to the entry way, holding out a coat for Mycroft and slipping on a jacket himself. 

          “Right, well I am ready when you are. The village is only about a ten minute walk from here, and we are lucky the sun is still out so it will be a tad warmer,” The idea of sixty degree weather being a heatwave made him chuckle, but that was how it always went. When the snow started to fall, anything below sixty seemed like a frozen tundra, but now, when they were coming out of winder, anything forty and above was glorious. Smiling, Mycroft stepped out the front door and locked up behind them, moving to Gregory’s side and holding out his arm so they could walk together. 

*****

          It was a simple walk, but one that he was glad to have with the politician, needing to stretch his legs after their drive and the fresh air was nice compared to what they were used to back in London. Half expecting Mycroft to drop his arm once they had reached the local village, Greg smiled when he was held closer as they picked out what they needed for their dinner and breakfast. There were a few people that looked at them curiously, but no one challenged them either, so he elected to believe it was because they weren’t locals to their area and looked it with their button downs and slacks versus a more casual jumper and corduroys. 

          “Anything else we need?” Greg asked once they had picked out everything, looking it over and smiling to Mycroft. 

          “I think we have everything, but I could be mistaken. I am not the chef here, you are.” Paying, Mycroft turned and face him, their arms still linked and smiled. “If this is it, we can head back and I will do my best to help you prepare. I actually think I remember how to do the potatoes as well, believe it or not. It might be the one thing you actually get me to cook.” Greg laughed when Mycroft said that maybe he could to the potatoes all by himself, taking a few of the bags from him as they started their way back. 

           “Has the village changed since the last time you were here?” He asked after a couple of minutes, making sure they were securely out of earshot of anyone who might listen. Now and again, they talked about the change of London over the years, but Greg was vaguely familiar with such things if nothing else because it had been recorded in history books. Little changes like the local villages were rarely, if ever recorded, so he found it interesting to hear about it. “They’re friendly here, for sure. Friendlier than I had expected to be honest, with us being so…  _ open  _ like that.” 

           “Yes, well it does help that my family helped establish this village, providing jobs and of course, starting up a few of the local buildings and such, like the school and town hall. My family was always very invested in the smaller communities they stayed in, knowing it was safer to make an impact there than in a bigger city like London. They may not know me personally, or my brother, but they are aware that their founders had children who were both married to men, even during a time when it was considered… well… you understand. We were such an intricate part of the city though, and the people here would have never turned us into the authorities. Instead, they stood up for us and now it’s something the whole town knows as a part of their history. To see two men together, well I guess it really isn’t something of a shock to them and they sort of just accept it.” Greg hummed when Mycroft talked about founding the little town, squeezing his hand at the mention of them being married, knowing that it was something that he very much wanted, but wasn’t ready for just yet. It was stupid, but he was content so far, and he couldn’t quite pull himself through the mess of actually getting a divorce. “It had never been something we had intended to reveal to them, but you, of course, had different plans. You wished to be there, with the locals, learning the recipes and farming with them or whatever you usually got up to, and of course, when the locals tried to court you, you were not silent about the fact that you were already taken,” When it was mentioned that Greg had outed them at first about being married, he found himself laughing with a bright blush to his cheeks. 

          “Well, you don't have to worry about me not being loyal to you.” He offered, leaning over to kiss Mycroft’s cheek again. “I’m sure that startled you when I said that. Probably better ways of going about that, but at least that’s the most direct and not wrong?” 

          “There is no changing the past now, Gregory.” The politician smiled, looking over to him with a raised brow. “I don’t worry about you being loyal my dear, but if we must celebrate valentine’s day, maybe your gift to me would be filing the divorce papers?” Greg’s smiled turned tight when Mycroft mentioned the divorce, sighing as he looked back out at the path they were on. Mycroft knew why he was holding off on them, his concern for his ex’s well being, even if she had gone and cheated on him for so long. He’d tried to argue that it was being the bigger person in all of this, that they could live happily together and simply be estranged from Caroline, but it was a fight that there simply was no way to win without one of them being upset with the other.

          “My,” Greg sighed, thankful when the topic drifted back to Sherlock and John. 

          “Anyhow, you outed us, then Sherlock saw no reason why he had to hide anymore, and of course, it came out that he was with John as well. By then, the love for our family was already so rooted within the community that they couldn’t just abandon us and instead showed their support and love.” Arriving back at the cottage, his shoulders never quite relaxed as they were before the mentioning of the papers, but he went to work silently on the chicken. Greg admittedly didn’t understand why Mycroft was so hellbent on getting married, the officer definitely along the line of thought that a legal contract promising to love one another was a bit overdoing things when you could simply  _ be _ together. There wasn’t a point to starting a fight though, especially when they were trying to enjoy a weekend away with one another. Filling a pot with water for Mycroft, the rest of his stress began to drift off when Mycroft joined his side with a kiss, humming some song that only he knew as he finished seasoning the chicken and set it in a pan to brown. 

          “Well, I’m glad that the village was still willing to accept you and not just delete that part of their history. Had some family forget that when I came out with my first boyfriend…” 

          “Family is usually a little tougher than friends. I know my mother was disappointed when she learned that both Sherlock and I were gay, but it was mostly to do with the fact that the Holmes name would most likely stop with us. She loved us all the same, just took her some time. Luckily in Rome, it was a little more accepted during those times, that was, until the Christians took over,” Mycroft said with a bit of disgust, his nose crinkling as he continued his work on the potatoes. Greg chewed his lip when the man mentioned how their name would end with himself and Sherlock, knowing that was a whole different argument not to bring up at the moment since they were already flirting with their last one. Resting his head back against Mycroft when he wrapped himself around him and doing what he could to simply relax and ignore his nagging thoughts. “There, now it looks like we just wait till the food is cooked, have a nice dinner and then we can settle by the fire.” 

          “If it’s overcast tonight I wouldn’t mind a film, but I would like to try and go star gazing tonight. Even if we can’t see all the stars, we’d still be able to see more than we ever could in the city.” Greg said softly, feeling Mycroft relax against him. “Or are you just going to fall asleep on my shoulder now?” Greg teased, turning to kiss the man’s temple. 

          “Mmm, I might just fall asleep here, maybe it has something to do with the fact that you are so comfortable.” Greg smiled when Mycroft used his words against him, standing still as he felt the other grow heavier across his back. It allowed him to feel both protected and like the protector, knowing that he could provide comfort and food for Mycroft… even if the other paid for everything. Money wasn’t something they tended to talk about at all, though luckily, the politician tended to allow Greg to take the lead on when he could or couldn’t pay for something. “We can star gaze if you wish my dear.” Chuckling when the timer started to go off and Mycroft complained about having to move, Greg helped put their meal together and to set the table, taking a seat and pressing their feet together, eating their meal in silence. It definitely tasted better than what they usually were able to get back home, and he wasn’t sure if it was the quality of the food, or just a subconscious desire for it to taste better. They finished their meal and moved back to the couch after cleaning the kitchen, settling in side by side after lighting a fire to warm the room. 

          “I do love you, you know that right?” 

          “Yes of course my dear, why would you ever think I didn’t know that?” Mycroft questioned, wrapping his arm around Greg’s shoulder and moving a hand through his hair. “Is there something wrong, Gregory?” Greg shrugged slightly as he leaned into the gentle touch along his scalp, chewing his lip as he tried to figure out how best to word what was bothering him.

          “Just… these little arguments that we have. Things that we want to fix even though we know how to… I don’t know… I just always get nervous when these things come up.” He explained softly, leaning over to rest a bit more into Mycroft’s chest. “I know there’s nothing to worry about, I know you love me too, it’s just… I don’t want to have these fights. I don’t want to be passive aggressive with each other.” 

          “I don’t want to have these arguments either Gregory, and I… well I can’t say I understand why you aren’t willing to file just yet, but the way I feel about it, isn’t going to just go away while it is still an issue. I try not to say too much, and I’m sorry that I slipped up on our way home. It’s just not a topic I am very happy to think about, but still it seems to be in the back of my mind everytime I think about us. We’ve always been married, and I still feel as if I am because death has never come for me, but I can’t feel that way without a tinge of pain every time I realise that you are married to someone else and that it’s not a possibility for us with her still in the picture.” Greg sighed as he put his glass down, taking Mycroft’s out of his hand as well before moving to curl into his chest. 

          “I just don’t feel that Caroline is part of anything anymore except for when you bring her up. I don’t think about her, I don’t consider her part of my life anymore, but I don’t want to go through with the… well, the shame of a divorce. My parents were able to save themselves from a divorce and were made stronger by it all, and even though they understand what Caroline’s done to me and how happy I am with you, it’s still there.” He explained, wrapping his arm around Mycroft’s stomach to hold him close. “I’m happier with you, why can’t that be enough for us?” 

         “You aren’t trying to save that marriage though, Gregory, like your parents were. There is no shame in this as it was not your fault that any of this happened. I’m happy with you as well, but I feel like we cannot be  _ just  _ us when she can still come back and be in the picture. Estranged or not, you are still her husband, which means that you are not mine in the eyes of the law. If something were to happen to you and you were in hospital, she would have rights to see you but I would not. She would make medical decisions for you, not me. If we wished to adopt or do surrogate, she could ruin that process because you are not divorced. There are plenty of reasons why she still holds control over our lives, even if you don’t believe she would ever do those things.” Greg didn’t say anything to counter when Mycroft mentioned adoption or having a surrogate to have a family together, but he did tense his fist in the man’s shirt in a silent argument they wouldn’t have, as the politician had made it painfully clear the reasons why they couldn’t have that life while Greg was still mortal. “I just want to know that she could never come back and steal you away, or do anything to hurt our chances at a family. As much as it pains me to lose you to death, I always manage till you return. However, I don’t think I could manage if I lost you to her.” 

          “My, if anything ever happened to me, we both know that you’d pull so many strings that you’d have more access to me than my own parents would. I love you, you know that, but please… I’ll sort out the papers with time. If we do start a family together then of course I would do it in an instant, but until then… just give me time. Please,” Greg sighed into the heavy silence that fell over them, watching as the other gave him a curt nod. The argument was always personal, but it didn’t matter either way since he wouldn’t be staying, so why get upset if he got divorced seeing as he would end up dying and they would have to start all over again and the shame of divorce wouldn’t carry over… at least he would have a little more time to sort his life out, a little more time to get over his ego and admit to his failures, a little more time to remember, a little more time to die… Pulled from his thoughts when Mycroft mentioned going to see the stars, Greg nodded and stood, pulling the other up as well and giving him a firm kiss to push his worries away. “Come, let’s get some blankets and go. It will be nice, a good break from everything.” Grabbing a few blanket from the hall, they moved to the back patio, laying everything out and taking a seat on the ground, Mycroft pulling the blanket over their laps for warmth. Greg settling beside Mycroft and laying out on his back instead of sitting up, taking the man’s hand into his own and holding it to his chest. “My dad used to tell me stories about the different constellations, but I barely remember any of them. I can find about half, but that’s it.” 

         Moving, Greg laid his head against Mycroft’s leg, looking to the sky and trying to pick out a few constellations. They were still tense from their previous discussion, but sometimes they just needed these silent moments to work things out and simply start over again from a different point. 

         “At least we don’t need to worry about frostbite this time, huh?” Greg joked softly, kissing Mycroft’s hand in his. 

         “No, not frostbite, but we don’t want to catch a cold so I don’t recommend staying out here for too long. Last thing we need is to get sick.” He slowly relaxed in Mycroft’s lap, continuing to map out the stars in his head, though he caught himself with a few mistakes and smiled when he was able to correct them or just tossing others out completely because he knew he was wrong, but couldn’t remember the correct one. 

         “You know that’s not how colds work…” He murmured with a soft laugh. Mycroft started humming after a few moments, a song that was fairly familiar, but one he couldn’t place. Greg knew that song, having long since assumed it was something his grandmother would sing to him as a baby. “What is that lullaby? I’ve always known it, but no one in my family knows of it.” 

         “Fais do do. It’s a Cajun lullaby. One of the staff in our house in Nice used to sing it while she worked, probably something she would sing to her little boy at home. She came from Louisiana when she learned that her mother was sick, taking up work in our home. When I learned of her troubles, I let her stay with us and paid for her work until she had everything sorted. It was a sweet song, and something that had always given me comfort.” Mycroft explained and Greg smiled as he told the story behind it all. “Fais do do, Colas mon petit enfant. Fais do do, t’auras du lolo. Mama est en haut, Elle fait des gateux, Papa est en bas, il fait du chocolat. Fais do do, Colas mon petit enfant. Fais do do, t’auras du lolo.”  _ Go to sleep, Colas, my little child. Go to sleep and you’ll have a treat. Mama is upstairs, making cakes, Papa is downstairs, making chocolate. Go to sleep, Colas, my little child. Go to sleep and you’ll have a treat.  _ He could only assume the little boy was named Colas, and as always he wished he could remember more, but it never came no matter how hard he tried. Instead, he was content to share the moment with Mycroft, humming the tune himself as they continued to watch the skies above them. 

         “You always talk about how I got on with everyone around us, both rich and poor, but you’re the same you know. I keep hearing these stories about how you and your family put all you could into helping those around you. They always talk about absolute power corrupting, but I look at you, and Sherlock. He’s off helping solve crimes, you’re helping to keep the worst of history from repeating itself, and much more. I’m proud of both of you.” 

         “Well, absolute power in mortals does corrupt. There would be no point in me trying to take over anything as I would then be well known and the masses would know our secret. It also doesn’t do to let history repeat itself, and I would have to live through the consequences as well. Sherlock, well, he’s only solving crimes because you helped pick him off the streets and got him clean, a feat that I have been trying to accomplish for quite some time with no success. I’m glad you are proud of us, and touched, but there are selfish reasons behind my actions. Yours never seem as much.” Greg looked over to Mycroft as he spoke, tilting his head to the side slightly when he mentioned that their motives in their life were selfish.

          “I supposed I don’t see it that way, since you could punish us for being the idiots we are while living in your own little bubble. Either way, I’m glad you’re here and that I’m with you now.” Greg said with nod, moving as the other made to lay back on the blanket. When Mycroft settled down, he lay his head beside the man’s shoulder and watched the stars, smiling to himself when he spotted a streak of light darting across the sky. He had missed this sort of thing, just laying out under the stars and how relaxed it could make him feel. “There used to be a cat, a shocking large calico in the gardens here. I remember him. He would scream at me, wanting attention, but he would never let me pet him. Of course, he would rub against your legs without a second thought.” Greg remembered after a while, recalling the damned creature that he had never particularly gotten along with. “You’d always laugh about it too.” 

          “You remember the strangest things, I must admit,” Mycroft chuckled, smiling to the other. 

          “I aim to please.” Greg laughed, turning to press a kiss to Mycroft’s shoulder before looking back at the sky. They lay there again in silence for a while, till the other spoke, his teeth chattering. 

          “I’m sorry love, but I am positively freezing out here and am ready to go back indoors.” It was only after he had mentioned it being cold that Greg noticed the chill in the air and took the other’s hand to haul himself up. 

          “Don’t apologise. I’ll make us some tea once we’re inside to warm us both up.” He said with a quick nod, moving indoors with the other and to the kitchen to put a kettle on. When he returned, Mycroft had already curled up on the couch and had the fire back roaring to life, a blanket laid over his lap as he stared into the flames. Handing a cup to the other, he set his down on the table, moving to grab the remote for the telly. 

          “There are films in the cupboard dear if you wish to watch something. I’m not ready for bed just yet, I was just too cold to stay outside.” Greg dug around in the cupboard to see what movies there were to pick from before settling on, of all things he never expected to find, the Princess Bride. 

          “I can’t believe you have this movie. I’m far too excited about this right now.” He laughed, setting the DVD in the player and skipping through the previews to the menu as he settled in next to the other and urging Mycroft to relax against his chest.

          “As you wish,” After a few moments, they had the film started and Greg settled in, a smile on his face as the story began. It didn’t take long till Mycroft fell asleep against him, and he continued to mindlessly stroke his side as he watched the film he had practically memorised, mouthing along with his favourite lines and laughing now and again. Sitting there like this, now, this level of comfort and relaxation, Greg realised he had to do something to protect this and make sure they didn’t fall apart due to his refusal to get a divorce. He would have to talk with Allison, figure out a way to bring up the papers in a way that wouldn’t break Caroline, but… he couldn’t lose this. 

          “Mycroft,” Greg murmured softly, smiling down at the politician as he fought to sit up again and apologised for falling asleep. “I don’t mind, it’s nice to have this,” He assured the other, waving vaguely at the room before leaning over to kiss Mycroft. “Besides, you never sleep for more than four hours at a time, so you always need it.” 

           “Yes, well I have a feeling that I will be sleeping well tonight.” Mycroft mumbled, licking his lips and looking over to him with a tired smile. “I think I will retire for the evening. Will you join me or are you going to watch some more films?” 

          “I’ll join you in a bit,” Greg decided, wanting to at least try and get a rough draft of what he wanted to say to Allison typed out, especially as he knew that whatever he said would be shown to Caroline, so he couldn’t be as blunt as he otherwise would have been. 

          “You do as you wish dear. I don’t think I can keep myself up for much longer. Come to bed when you want,” Huffing a sigh in the silence that followed once Mycroft had left, Greg toyed with a text but never sent it, deciding to come back another time when he wasn’t yawning every couple of minutes and finding it hard to focus. Trotting up the stairs, he pulled off his shirt and smiled down at the sight of Mycroft fast asleep towards the middle of the bed. He carefully slid in and whispered his love as he curled up beside him and fell asleep easily. 

          They both slept into the morning, Greg waking when he felt Mycroft begin to stir beside him, wrapping his arms blindly around the politician and pulling him back against his side. 

          “I didn’t give you permission to get up yet.” He murmured with a soft laugh when he heard Mycroft grunt his protest. 

          “I will be right back love, I have to go to the bathroom.” With a sigh Greg let him go, turning onto his back and closing his eyes once more. He heard the toilet flush and the water from the sink turn on and off, but when the other didn’t climb back in bed he looked to the door, only to find the other leaning against the wall and watching him. 

          “Staring is rude, you know,” Greg said with a faint smirk, closing his eyes to keep out the light. “Come here, we don’t have anywhere to be just yet,” Holding out a hand, he waited till the other took it to pull him back down onto the bed. Turning over, he kissed Mycroft, still warm and lazy from sleep and not thinking about anything they would have to do today. “Did you have anything in mind for today? Or are we just escaping the real world for a little longer until we absolutely have to go back?” 

           “I didn’t have anything in mind, just to spend time with you. You were the one who wanted to get away together, so what do you want to do while we are here?” Mycroft laid his head on Greg’s chest, running his fingers lightly over his skin. “There isn’t much as far as sightseeing or tourism goes. The town is so very small and they hardly ever have visitors. I’m not sure what else there might be to do. We do have a few outdoor activity sets in the shed out back, like badminton, croquet and possibly even a football, but I can’t say I will be participating in those activities.” Greg snorted a laugh at the mention of ‘outdoor sport objects,’ wondering for a moment what it would be like to see Mycroft play football or rugby, which almost sent him into a fit of giggles. 

          “Silly,” He smirked, wrapping an arm around the man’s waist and nuzzling into Mycroft’s neck before mouthing a few wet kisses there. “We could go for a walk, or stay here,” Greg purred, sliding his hands down along the man’s chest and just under the hem of his pants. Usually they only had a chance to tease each other like this at night, but as they weren’t trying to race the start of the day to get to the office or a meeting, they had to take advantage of the moment. “Up to you, really. Though, I’m rather content to stay like this, if you are.” 

          “If this is going where I think, I’m content to never leave this bed,” Mycroft mouthed, leaning in and capturing his lips in a slow, lazy kiss. “It would be crazy for me to leave when there is a handsome silver fox in my bed just begging me to stay.” Greg laughed softly at Mycroft’s ever consistent nickname for him, trying to figure out what he could ever call Mycroft, but coming up short. He had never been good with those nicknames anyway, really only calling his partners ‘love’ or ‘sweetie’. Slowly pulling the man’s pants down as they kissed, he smiled as they broke apart to catch their breath, pushing Mycroft’s clothes off before working on his own and then rolling over to cage Mycroft down on the mattress with his arms and legs. 

          “I want you to stay beside me, always.” Greg smiled, kissing down along Mycroft’s neck to his shoulder before sucking a mark against his collarbone. 

          “As you wish,” Mycroft whispered with a smug grin, quoting the film from last night before rolling his hips up against him. 

          “Silly man,” Smiling softly, he felt those nails trail along his skin and pull him down as Mycroft slowly rocked his hips against his own. Greg sighed a moan at the hot, firm skin of their erections rubbing together, pressing a kiss even deeper each time they moved together, setting a lazy, but passionate pace. Shifting his weight after a few moments, he reached down between Mycroft’s legs, his fingers trailing along the man’s cleft and pushing against that entrance as his finger sunk it. 

          “Please Gregory,” Mycroft arched up against him, and he was suddenly aware that they didn’t have any lube with them. Frowning, he thought quickly, moving between the man’s legs and dipping down between them, starting to lap at Mycroft’s hole, opening him up with his tongue and trying to get him as wet as possible. There was a difference between wanting something rough, and it being painful. Greg slowly lapped at the other, moving and coating his fingers in saliva as well, pushing them in and working the other open as best as he could. When he was sure that the other was as ready as he was ever going to be, Greg moved up, stealing another kiss and thrumming with excitement. 

          “Turn over love. I want to have you from behind.” He whispered into the man’s ear, sitting up enough to let Mycroft turn over before laying out across his back and scraping his nails hard over the man’s skin, leaving long lines of scratches down his spine. “You truly are gorgeous, you have no idea, my love.” Greg said in a low growl as he stroked himself a few times to bring himself back up to a full erection before lining them up and carefully pressing just the head into Mycroft’s body. “Just like that, christ, My, you’re perfect. Absolutely amazing.” 

          “Oh, God, Gregory, yes,” Mycroft groaned, his eyes going wide and jaw going slack as he pushed a little further in. 

          “Breathe,” Greg reminded the other as he continued, peppering his back with little kisses as he slid up his body, lightly laying across him while still supporting himself mostly with his arms. “Just like that, so tight and perfect, My, god, I love you.” He whispered, sucking a faint mark on Mycroft’s neck that he knew would only be there for a moment before fading, cursing that he couldn’t just be teenager again and leave a bruise there for everyone to see. Feeling Mycroft relax under him, Greg started off slow to help a bit more before picking up speed, their moans and the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room in the otherwise quiet morning haze. Shifting positions to kneel behind Mycroft, Greg pressed down on the man’s shoulders to direct him to stay down, while pulling his hips up to join his, giving the detective the chance to go as fast and as hard like he wanted to. He took advantage of the sounds this angle pulled from Mycroft’s throat to drive him farther. “You like that? Being used like this? You sound like you belong in a porno,” He hissed, his fingers digging into Mycroft’s hips to hold tight as he started to shutter a bit with the beginnings of his orgasm. 

            “Yes, please, love, Gregory. I need to come, please, love, yes, yes, yes,” Greg drove himself even faster and harder as he listened to Mycroft give into their pleasure, all the sounds pouring out so easily until he couldn’t simply hold out any longer. He draped himself over the man’s back as his orgasm ripped through his body, a matching cry of his lover’s name falling from his lips. “Christ, fuck, My, god, come for me, I want to feel it.” He moaned, thrusting a few more times into Mycroft’s body with the last couple of waves of pleasure. “Just like that, don’t stop.” Greg murmured, reaching under and joining Mycroft’s hand around his cock and stroking him to completion as well. 

           “Ah, Greg-Ah!” Mycroft called out, his body stilling as he spilled over their hands, collapsing after a few moments. Carefully pulling out of the other, he laid next to him, panting as he was still coming down from his high. “Well, good morning to you as well my dear,” Mycroft chuckled, his voice a bit hoarse. “I wish I could wake every morning to something like that, but life would never be that kind,” The other moved closer and threw an arm around his waist before burying his face in his neck. “I never want to leave this bed now,” Greg laughed softly when Mycroft curled into him, shifting around to align their bodies so that they could recover, and with a fond smile he ran his fingers through the man’s auburn hair as they caught their breath. 

           “If we woke up to every morning like that, we would either have to get up much earlier or simply accept the fact that we’ll never get to work on time.” Greg teased gently. “I know for a fact that I’d never be able to simply get up after that and drive off to work… Not without feeling like I’m abandoning you.” He added, needing these moments after to cuddle, and simply to confirm, even just to himself, that this was always more than just sex between them. It sounded stupid, but it was the truth. “If nothing else, we’ll have to get up and wash the sheets. Though, we can still be lazy for a little while longer. We certainly don’t need to do anything yet.” 

          “I do believe I would have a hard time leaving afterwards as well, and would be thoroughly distracted at work for the rest of the day. Still, the idea is nice.” After a few moments of silence, his eyes started to close once more, but he wasn’t about to fall asleep. “What did you have in mind for breakfast this morning dear? Anything I can help with?” Greg smiled back to Mycroft when he pulled away and looked over at him, having long since learned to see the tiny smiles at the corner of the man’s lips for what they truly were. 

          “Something simple. Eggs and toast?” He offered, nothing that was particularly fancy or involved, but something Mycroft could assist with. “In a bit though,” Greg added with a laugh, turning to kiss Mycroft’s cheek before kissing along his face, finally settling on a lazy but deep kiss, content to explore one another, but still too early for a second round. “I love you so very much.” 

           “I love you most, Gregory. I will always love you, no matter what, and no matter how long this takes. I will be here for you, forever.” Greg smiled when Mycroft said that he loved him most, usually hating that line of vague flirting, but then again, Mycroft could win that argument of loving him more, having always loved him for thousands of years and never growing tired of him. That certainly had to count for something. 

          “You’re crazy, you know that?” Greg said with a fond grin, kissing Mycroft’s nose and chuckling as the man gave him a pointed glare, his features scrunched as he kissed him. “I’m glad you’re a certain type of crazy, though, or we’d never have clicked so fast.” Greg shrugged, stretching out his back and hauling himself up to get his clothes on. 

          “Crazy?” 

          “Not a bad crazy, just… there’s a special type of crazy to contend with me.” Greg shrugged, having long since accepted the fact with the job he had, and the threat that it carried along with it, and that it kept him from home. “Come on,” He murmured, getting dressed and starting for the kitchen to sort out where the different pans were in order to start cooking. Smiling over to Mycroft when he finally joined him, Greg kissed his cheek before returning to the eggs he had just finished scrambling and had out on the stovetop. “Want to start on the toast? Eggs don’t take long at all, really, but they can sit for a moment until that’s done.” 

           “I think I can manage toast, after all, how hard is it to put sliced bread into the toaster and push the lever down?” Mycroft chuckled, reaching for the bread on the counter. 

           “I’ve assisted with house fires that have started because of toasters, so…” Greg said with a laugh, kissing Mycroft’s shoulder to show that he was obviously teasing. Once the bread had popped and the plates were set out, Greg dished out the eggs before taking his plate over to the table, sitting beside Mycroft because he could. Maybe he was still a bit clingy after their morning tryst, but neither of them seemed to mind it. “Did you have anything in mind for the day before we have to head back?” 

          “Nothing in particular. I’m content sitting outdoors with a good book, or going for a stroll through the town. Whatever you wish my dear.” Smiling, the politician took a couple bites of his meal, their feet rubbing together beneath the table. “Now, I know you wish to celebrate valentine’s day, but I feel like we should have some ground rules, like we did with Christmas, even if you did ignore most of them. I do not want to decorate the house, or add candles, or have rose petals all over the floor. I would say no gifts, but I know I can’t hold you to that.” Greg laughed when Mycroft decided on setting some rules for their next holiday, covering his mouth to keep from making a mess of his meal across the table and making a fool of himself. 

           “So,  _ don’t  _ cover everything with pink glitter and paper hearts?” Greg asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm, even though that didn’t protect him from another withering glare. “I won’t, My, I promise. There’s nothing embarrassing about Christmas, which is why I had fun with it. I won’t go overboard with valentine’s. I just want to have a chance to dote on you like you do for me,” He shrugged, still not sure what he was going to do, but deciding he would certainly look into filing divorce and getting in contact with Allison. That would hopefully count for something. 

          “Fine. You can, but just for that evening. Nothing beforehand, nothing after. Please.” Greg just smiled as they finished their meal, easily walking around each other as they cleaned up their dishes and wiped down the counters. 

          “There are a few shops around the town, like a bookstore and a few other boutiques we could always visit. Or, we could take a lovely stroll through the garden out back. I have my book too if we just want to sit outside for a while. There is also that sports equipment in the shed, if you wish, just don’t expect me to join.” Mycroft chuckled, leaning against the counter as he looked over to him. 

          “Doesn’t keep me from desperately wanting you to play something with me,” Greg admitted, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “I think I’d like a walk in the garden. It’ll be nice.” He said with a smile, moving to lead the way back, grabbing their shoes and offering his hand out for Mycroft to take. It was a beautiful day out, slowly starting to warm just a little more than the day before. “Maybe I can get you to play frisbee with me someday. That’s not a particularly demanding sport, more has to do with hand eye coordination.” 

          “I can’t say I particularly excel there either,” Greg chuckled, deciding not to press the idea of any participating in sports with Mycroft, though he still wanted to do something. As they walked, Greg looked over the grounds, a soft smile on his lips as he just let the fresh air fill his lungs.He was content listening to stories of them for now, always wanting to remember more than he did, but happy to hear them and play them back as if he could remember.  “If you don’t mind, I think I would like to read my novel until lunch. We can finish the rest of the food off then, and unfortunately, we should head back a couple hours after that.” When they returned to the cottage, Greg nodded in agreement, relaxing on the couch in Mycroft’s lap, as he often found himself, and flipping through the channels on the telly before finding a footie match, smiling to himself at how their day rather perfectly personified who they were. Content to watch his game in silence and be pet like a cat, Greg allowed his mind to wander to the last year. How had he gone from tired and miserable with Caroline, who couldn’t even be arse to pretend like she wasn’t cheating on him, to meeting Sherlock and Mycroft, finding love in a way he never expected to, and moving out? He had never expected to find himself like this, not only happy, but honestly and genuinely content in a way that he had never thought he could be. Deep down, he knew he should officially divorce Caroline and move on with his life, but he hated change. He hated throwing himself out there to chance and hoping that it would all work out in the end, even though he knew he was safe with Mycroft. It was also the fact that he had tried for all his life to be self sufficient, to prove that he could be something and provide for himself and his family, and his ego still balked at the idea of letting Mycroft take care of him. He knew it was something he wanted to talk about, which meant he was going to ignore it for as long as possible. Greg stretched and yawned as noon came around, deciding that he would act before valentines came around, and would have an honest talk about moving forward from there with Mycroft. For now though, he’d still enjoy the last of their lazy afternoon before they had to return to London.


	15. XIV

           "No, I said I wanted those files to me this afternoon, not in two weeks, Craig. So help me, if I have to come down to your office…” Mycroft trailed off as the other started to stutter, muttering about how he would have the documents to him within the hour. “You have until one. If they are not in my inbox by then, I promise you will find yourself in a situation with no escape, wishing you had never dared utter those words to me this morning. Do I make myself clear?” Mycroft hung up the phone, sighing as he pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head, trying to let his frustrations slide away. It had only been a week or so since they had returned from the cottage, but he was finding himself desperate for another break. He didn’t think he would be getting one today though as it was valentine’s, and all he could do was expect some ridiculous fiasco, or gifts and confetti to appear on his desk, because it was Gregory, and he would love to do something like that. Luckily, nothing had happened so far, but Mycroft wasn’t putting it past him just yet. Frowning deeply, Mycroft continued on the paperwork that littered his desk, scribbling a few notes here and there, filing the last of MI6’s deadlines in the cabinet and sitting back in his chair. It always surprised him how idiotic people could be, which, after centuries of living, one would think there would be a certain familiarity with it, but people never ceased to amaze him. A few moments later, there was a knock at the door and he turned to glare at whoever dared enter his office at this hour unannounced. His expression quickly softened when he realised it was Gregory. “Hello my dear,” Mycroft’s voice was soft and tired, and his smile weak as the other joined him at his side. 

          “Hey, My. Brought you some lunch. Made some soup from the roast we had a few days ago, think you could take a few minutes to eat?” 

          “I think I can manage to have lunch without being interrupted today,” Signing off his P.A. system and locking the door, Mycroft took out a few glasses that he kept in a cabinet, and some fine wine, knowing this would be the first of many drinks he would need to make it through the day. “Thank you for bringing me this, I really didn’t realise how much I needed the comfort food and the company from the best partner I could ask for.” Mycroft loved buttering the other up, and he meant every word of it. Gregory didn’t have to bring him lunch, but he did, and he didn’t have to cook or eat with him, but he chose to every time. 

          “You always need comfort food. It’s amazing you haven’t had an aneurysm yet from the amount of stress you put yourself through.” Gregory teased gently, pouring out the wine for them both before taking a seat across from him, smiling as Mycroft looked to him, waiting as always for Gregory to eat first. “I already ate, so don’t worry about me.” 

          “Are you sure love?” More than likely, Gregory had already eaten, not being sure if he would be able to share a meal with him. The other nodded and took another sip of his wine. 

          “I won’t ask how your day has been since you looked like you wanted to kill someone when I came in, but do you think you’ll be home on time? I still plan on surprising you for our first valentine’s together, you know.” 

          “Oh, I have no intention of staying here past six and I have made it very clear to everyone who has dared threaten my timeline that I will not be accepting that today. I know you still plan on surprising me, which, it’s not really a surprise if you tell me about it dear.” Mycroft took a few bites of the stew, letting the warmth spread through him and comfort him as he tasted Gregory’s handiwork. “Is it really necessary to do this tonight though? Can we not just have a nice meal together and call it good for the evening? I’m really terrified at what you have planned.” 

          “It’s not a surprise if I tell you what I’m doing, and you don’t know what I am doing, so it’s still a mystery, and yes, we have to do it tonight. I have been working all day on it, and it would just be awkward now if we waited till tomorrow. I’ll give you a hint though, one part of it is a bit long term, but the rest still stand that it sort of has to be tonight.” Mycroft  _ hated  _ surprises, as most times he could deduce what they were, but when he couldn’t… it made his skin crawl and his imagination run wild as he tried to sort out the possibilities. The worst part was when Gregory gave him more clues that were still vague enough to lead him on, but it only made his fears more specific and strange. “It’s fine, really. Whatever you’re coming up with, it’s probably wrong. You’ll love it, I’m sure.” 

          “I’m sure I would love it much more if you just told me instead of keeping me in the dark. You are getting far too good at hiding things from me and that worries me even more.” Mycroft finished his stew and set the dishes aside, taking a few sips of his wine and settling back in his chair. 

          “Relax. The only reason I think I’ve been able to pull this off is because I did it all today. I think the longest I’ve been able to keep something from you is about a day and a half before you figure it out, and that’s only because you were in meetings for most of that time,” Greg smiled, holding his arms out for the other to join him on the sofa. “Trust me My, I wouldn’t keep anything major for you.” Mycroft’s nose crinkled as the other kissed it, still not feeling completely comfortable with the prospect of what awaited him at home. The fact that the other had been preparing for it all day made it even more daunting. Sighing, Mycroft licked his lips and looked to the other. 

          “Well, I have no choice in the matter. I will have to wait until I get home, and Anthea has stripped me of my CCTV access so I can’t even look into my own house. I am not happy that you two are working together again, it’s dangerous.” Mycroft teased, complaining about the two of them. “Unfortunately dear, I do have a meeting in ten minutes, so as much as I would love for you to stay, the Prime Minister wouldn’t be happy if I left him waiting.” Reaching up, Mycroft cupped the man’s cheek and pulled him down for a gentle kiss, pressing close, but not heating anything up. 

          “You’re never happy after meeting with him, so he deserves to wait a minute or two for you.” Chuckling, Mycroft looked to the other and stood, holding a hand out for Gregory and waiting. “I know, I know. You really have to now. I still have dinner to make anyway. I’ll see you tonight and I promise you have nothing to worry about. Trust me? Please?” 

          “I trust you Gregory, but that does not mean I am happy that there will be a surprise, or that I am not worried about it.” Mycroft teased, standing and walking out with the other, his files now under his arm. “I will see you just after six. Don’t get into too much trouble,” Giving the man one last kiss, Mycroft made his way back to the office where the Prime Minister would be waiting, taking a deep breath before entering with a fake smile, knowing that he was going to be a wreck by time he came out of this meeting. 

          It was six forty five and he was still at work, having already messaged Gregory four times, apologising that he would be late. 

          “Craig! I am leaving now. I have had enough of your childish behaviours, I have gone over the paperwork you submitted and I have to ask, why were you hired for MI6? This proposal is absolutely rubbish, and it needs to be redone. The requests are insane, the writing is grade school and at best, for god sakes man, if you can’t at least write legibly, use a computer. Now, I expect this to be re-written, well thought out, feasible and on my desk by the time I return tomorrow morning. Good day.” With that, Mycroft made his way out of the building, practically seething as he left, quickly slipping into his car and messaging Gregory to let him know he would be home in ten minutes. 

          Moving through the door, Mycroft took off his jacket and toed off his shoes, setting down his briefcase and umbrella before moving towards the kitchen, hoping that the other would forgive him somehow for how late he was. 

          “Hey, come here,” Gregory greeted him, pulling Mycroft into a tight hug until he started to relax again. “Welcome home love. I made the first meal we made together, though I still can’t say it. Let’s eat first, then I’ll show you my surprise.” Mycroft peppered the man with kisses and apologies as he held him, willing himself to forget work now that he was home. 

          “I’m so terribly sorry Gregory, so very sorry. Is there anyway you can forgive me? I am very late, I feel dreadfully awful, I am so sorry my love,” He whispered between kisses, pulling away and looking to the other in front of him. When Gregory mentioned their meal, his heart melted even further and he leaned in to shower the man with even more attention. “I don’t deserve someone as good as you darling. You did all of this for me, and here I am, late to dinner. I love you so very much, you are my world, my light, and my life.” 

         “My, it’s alright. It was work, I understand, and you told me. You didn’t do anything wrong, I’m just glad you’re home.” Gregory assured him, kissing the tip of his nose before taking his hand and leading him to the table. “Don’t worry about work yeah? At least for tonight. You can worry about it in the morning and I’ll have my own to worry about then too. Tonight it for us though, that’s the point of Valentines. That and to help with the sales of pink glitter, but we’re ignoring that part for now.” Sitting down, the both of them ate through their meal, making a few comments here and there, but mostly just enjoying each other’s company. “You know, for being immortal, you really don’t have much patience at all,” 

          “Yes, well I have patience for some things in life, but ignorance and stupidity is not one of them,” There was a bit of a bite to his words, but it was in no way directed towards Gregory, rather, he was still angry about his coworker. 

          “Come on, let’s at least rinse the dishes before we go upstairs so we can forget about everything else.” 

          “I’m still waiting for a horrific surprise tonight, that I might turn the corner and find one of the rooms completely decorated with pink glitter and sequins and all things horrid. I am trying to have patience and wait till you show me, and it is taking everything I have not to go through every room in the house to make sure it isn’t so.” Mycroft gave the other a small smile, standing and taking his dishes to the sink. Gregory snorted a laugh and shook his head, holding a hand out for him to take as he lead him upstairs. 

          “No matter my love for teasing you, I can honestly swear, there is no glitter involved in any of my surprises for you tonight,” He grinned, leading Mycroft up to the bedroom. “There are two surprises for you. I’ll directly give you one, the other you have to figure out yourself.” Moving into the bedroom, Mycroft looked around but didn’t notice anything that shouted out to him. Of course, there was an envelope on the bed, but he knew that would be the gift Gregory was giving to him. No, there was something else that he could quite place his finger on. Furrowing his brow, Mycroft scanned the room, not seeing much that had changed from the last time he was in there. Looking back to the other, he tried to see if he could read anything from him, but was drawing a blank. 

          “I am assuming the envelope is one of the things you wished to give me,” Maybe if he gave himself a little more time, it would come to him. When Gregory nodded, Mycroft moved to take the envelope and opened the seal, pulling out a set of folded papers. Scrunching his nose, the politician looked to the printer paper and unfolded it, his head tilting as he read them. They were divorce papers… signed by him, sent out to… “Gregory,” Mycroft’s voice was soft as he looked to the other, his heart fluttering as he smiled to the man in front of him. He had only been teasing about these for his valentine’s day gift, but here they were. 

          “I want to make my life with you. I don’t want to continue to live attached to someone I don’t… I don’t want to be with her anymore.” Gregory said softly, a small smile playing on his lips. “I love you. I want to be with you. So.. yeah,” Moving in closer, Mycroft cupped Gregory’s cheeks and pulled him in for a very tender kiss, putting all of his feelings into that one moment and then spreading it out through a series of smaller kisses. 

          “Gregory, this means so much to me, I can’t even begin to tell you,” Mycroft whispered, pulling back just a little when the other started talking about his other surprise. 

          “You still have one last surprise to deduce, though,” At the moment, he couldn’t be bothered with a second surprise, knowing that there was very little that could be better than what he already had. 

          “I think I want my third present right now,” Mycroft leaned in, nipping at the man’s earlobe and purring, his hands pressing into Gregory’s hips. The other was starting to protest, and he knew this wasn’t going to happen without a bit of a fight, so he moved them closer to the bed, wanting to be within reach of the night stand so he could grab the handcuffs. “God Gregory. I can’t believe you would do this for me, it means so much to me. I want you so badly,” Just a few more steps and he would have him locked to the bed and all to himself. When he was close enough, one hand left Gregory’s face and reached down to pull the drawer open, knowing the cuffs should be right on top. Instead, he came into contact with something else. Frowning, Mycroft turned away from the other and looked down, noting there were quite a few things he didn’t recognise sitting in that drawer. “Gregory, what are these?” He questioned, pulling them out and noting they were Gregory’s, but not understanding why… pausing for a moment, he went over to the cupboard and opened the doors, noting the clothes and shoes that were never there before, and then over to the dresser for the undergarments. 

          “I moved in,” Gregory said softly, smiling as he looked over to him. “Like I said, I want to make my life with you, and so… it wasn’t really that much, just a few little things here and there. I did leave some things at the safe house, but only for days that cases keep me out stupid late.” Mycroft froze when he heard those words, turning on the spot. Not only did Gregory file for divorce, but he had moved in!? Short of the man getting down on one knee in front of him and proposing, this was more than he could ever ask for, and more than he had ever expected. Quickly moving to the other’s side, he pressed a deep kiss into those lips, his hands pushing the man back down into the bed and crawling up to straddle his hips. God, he wanted nothing more than the man himself, and to show him how much all of this meant to him. Mycroft’s hands raked up the other’s sides, pulling the shirt off and over his head and tossing it to the side. He let his lips travel south, kissing and licking every last inch of the man in front of him. “Gregory, my love, my life, my light, I can’t say enough, I love you so much,” Mycroft muttered between nips and swipes of his tongue, dipping just below the man’s waistband but deciding to tease him a little further. 

          “I told you valentine’s wasn’t bad,” Gregory murmured with a laugh, arching his back and writhing under his touch. “Oh, Mycroft… I am yours. Truly. Please,” He breathed, hands gripping the sheets of the bed. “I love you too. I’m yours, always.” Moving the man further up the bed, Mycroft stripped off his trousers and pants, leaving the Detective Inspector completely naked on the bed in front of him. 

          “I plan to savour every last inch of you, to lick and tease until you are a weeping mess and just begging for release,” Mycroft’s voice was dark as he moved with grace over top of Gregory’s body, starting with the sensitive skin just behind the man’s ear, leaning in and sucking, biting and teasing, moving painfully slow down his neck, intent on leaving as many marks on that beautiful skin as he could. Just below both collarbones he sucked two dark mark. On his shoulder he bit hard, his fingernails scratching down the Gregory’s side, his mouth adding more marks around the man’s nipples, lapping the buds to attention and nibbling them till the other was bucking into his touch. Everywhere he went, Mycroft left a mark of some kind, either with his lips or nails. 

          “My, please,” Gregory gasped, trying to sit up but he was quickly pushed down by his hand, keeping him in place. “I need you, desperately. Please, christ love, I want you so bad.” 

          “Mmm, and you will be patient. I did as you asked today, now I get to claim you as I want.” Mycroft sucked yet another dark mark to the inside of Gregory’s thighs, his nose just brushing over the man’s groin as he passed between them. “Now, stay put or I might prolong my teasing even more.” When he was sure the other wasn’t going to move, Mycroft looked to the bedside table, figuring out where the other had put the lube and then returned to the bed. Slicking up his fingers, he ran them lightly over the man’s arse, just fluttering over the hole, trying his best to barely touch it. After a few moments, he slowly pressed one finger in, just to the first knuckle, moving it in small circles and deciding to go just as slow with this and to watch the man open up for him.

          “My, please… I want more, I need more.” Gregory whimpered, pressing his head back against the pillows and clenching his eyes shut tight. “Take me, claim me, I’m yours! Always, please…” When the other started begging once more, Mycroft slowly sank his finger all the way in, delicately massaging the inside of the other, searching, probing, but specifically skirting away from the man’s sweet spot. After a few minutes when the other was on the cusp of letting out another string of words, Mycroft worked in a second finger, still just as slow and sweet. It didn’t take long till he had all three fingers inside the other, gently working him open, nice and slow. This time, he nuzzled his nose against the other’s groin, taking in a deep breath so he could smell the delicious scent of the other. Trailing his hot breath over the man’s weeping cock, he let the tips of his fingers press ever so lightly over Gregory’s prostate. 

          “Gregory, you are a delicious little thing, something to be savoured, and honestly, I cannot believe this is all mine for the taking.” Mycroft purred, dragging the last of this out and holding the other just on the edge of pleasure and desperation. 

          “You’re an absolutely bastard, you know that?” Gregory hissed, rocking himself against his hand. “Christ, My, just take me. Please, you can’t keep doing this to me,” He moaned and bucked again as Mycroft let his fingers press a little harder on his sweet spot. “Mycroft, please, I need you. Anything, everything, just something more, please…” When he was pleased with the other’s string of words and how well he was worked open, Mycroft stepped away, slowly stripping himself and folding his clothes neatly, hanging the shirt and jacket back up. He wanted to draw this out one last bit before he would give the other what he was so desperate for. When he returned to Gregory’s side, Mycroft reached over and grabbed the lube again, letting it drip over his aching member and slowly rubbing the oil over his cock. Making his way on top of the other like a cat, Mycroft leaned in and claimed those lips in a heated kiss, one hand supporting himself, the other reaching down and moving his cock to pose at the entrance of the other. Slowly, he started to press in, inch by inch, until he was fully sheathed. He had to stop and take a moment, the hot sensation almost overwhelming. “Fucking finally,” Gregory breathed, wrapping his arms around Mycroft’s back. “I love you. So very much. Christ, you’re perfect within me.” 

           “God, Gregory.” Mycroft buried his face in the other’s shoulder, trying to steady his breathing as he pulled out and pushed back in, trying to keep a slow and steady pace, but finding himself shaking as he did. “I love you too… My love, my life, my light,” he whispered, kissing Gregory’s neck and up to his ear, nibbling on his lobe and over the man’s jaw. “You’re all mine, always mine,” There was a possessiveness in his voice as he bit down on the man’s shoulder, lingering and lapping over the abused skin before biting down again, intent on leaving even more marks on the man below him. Mycroft’s body was starting to shake with how slow he was moving, trying to control himself as he wanted to go faster, but he also wanted to make this last. “Fuck, you feel so sinfully tight love, so perfect, god…” 

          “Take me, My. You have all of me, just move.” There was no holding out any longer, that side of him losing control as the other raked his nails down his back. A deep groan ripped through his chest as his hips snapped, thrusting hard into the other, his pace quickening as he continued to pound in, his eyes rolling back at the feeling and his grip growing tighter. 

          “Fuck, Gregory, yes love, you feel so good, yes, please, fuck.” Mycroft swore, almost starting to lose himself as the heat coiled deep within him, that pleasure building. He could tell that he wasn’t hitting that spot though for Gregory, at least not yet. Tilting his hips and moving till he saw the look on the other’s face, Mycroft found his sweet spot and drove into it with every thrust, feeling the man shudder around him. “Gregory, love, come for me, please,” Reaching between them with a shaky hand, he gripped the man’s cock and tugged with his pace, knowing the other wouldn’t last long as he felt that familiar pulse. Before he had even finished that sentence, he could feel the other clench around him, his back arching under him as the hot liquid spilled over his hand. It was a sight that he would never grow tired of, watching Gregory lose himself to pleasure, that look of pure ecstasy and adoration. It was enough to push himself over, his hips stilling as he spilled into the other, trying to keep himself from collapsing on top of him. 

          Pulling out after a few moments, Mycroft laid to the side, panting and closing his eyes as he tried to calm his breathing, listening to Gregory do the same next to him. 

          “Well, I don’t think this night could get any better,” He chuckled, turning slightly so he could look at the other, reaching out and smiling. Normally he was all for ignoring the holidays, but somehow, this year, Gregory had made each of them special and worth celebrating. If this was the way it would always go, then count him in. 

          “I’m going to look like I was mauled by you tomorrow,” Gregory laughed softly, looking down at himself with amusement. “Love you, you’re crazy, but I love you. Also, maybe not so much biting next time,” He teased, leaning over to kiss Mycroft’s wrist, brushing a hand over his cheek. 

          “It good that no one but me will see them and you will remember them when you shouldn't. It might get you hot and bothered at work, which is something I rather like the idea of very much. You… wanton, sending me messages about how much you want me, and that you want me to mark you all over again.” Mycroft purred, nuzzling next to the other and kissing him lazily along his arm and shoulder. “I can’t help but taste and bite you all over my dear, you are so delicious.” he chuckled, closing his eyes and letting out a content sigh. 

           “We need a shower. In a bit though, after my legs can move again. I think I have changed your mind about valentine’s… Told you it wasn’t so bad.” 

           “I will never admit that it was something I enjoyed, and if you tell anyone, I will deny it till the day I die.” Peeking through his lashes, Mycroft gave Gregory a rather playful smirk, laughing again at the look he received in turn. 

           “Except, you know, you can’t so…” Gregory pointed out in turn, giving a playful shove to his shoulder before carefully pushing himself upright. 

           “Yes, well that is the point now isn’t it?” Mycroft teased, watching the other go and looking at the thorough job he had done on the other, a mark covering almost every bit of skin, the man looking rather well shagged if he did say so himself. When Gregory had finished cleaning everything, they slipped under the covers and Mycroft waited as he curled up against his side, laying his head on his chest. Running a hand through those silver locks, the politician stared at the ceiling, letting his mind go blank as he laid there with the other. It had only been about six months since the man had come back into his life, but it was already starting to feel like he had never left. It was funny how time flew from time to time, other days it seemed to drag on. “I love you Gregory.” 

           “I love you too, so very much,” Gregory said softly, yawning and settling once more on his chest. “Goodnight sweetheart.” Smiling softly down to the other, Mycroft closed his eyes and let himself drift, content and utterly happy. 

           “Goodnight my love.” 


	16. XV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry lovelies that this chapter was a day late, I had surgery earlier this week and have been a bit out of it recently. The next chapter will probably be a bit late as well for multiple reasons, the surgery being one of them, having slowed us down on typing up the latest chapter, and two, well... we haven't finished the next chapter yet!!! Please be a tad patient while we catch up, I'm starting to feel a tad better, and hopefully will be up and running like normal soon!!! 
> 
> Ta!

 

           Months passed and things went well. There were nights where they wouldn’t see one another, which was to be expected, but even when all they had was waking next to one another and a kiss before they ran off to work, it was still a lovely feeling knowing that the house was theirs now and things were looking up. Caroline, unfortunately, still hadn’t agreed to sign the divorce papers, and there was no way to force her so they had just let it be for now. 

          Greg hummed softly in his sleep, only partially waking up enough to make it obvious he had heard something from the other, but immediately falling back asleep again until his alarm went off a few hours later. Groaning in annoyance at the buzzing, he mindlessly smacked at the alarm to turn if off before taking a few minutes to pull himself together, always hating mornings no matter how well he had slept the night before. A call, no more than ten minutes later, dragged Greg out of bed, reporting to a case that all he could get from Donovan was ‘weird as hell’. The fact that she was already asking for Sherlock told him that it was definitely going to be a long day. A quick stop in the kitchen and grinning at the thermos already filled with coffee waiting for him, Greg sent a quick message to Mycroft to thank him before starting out to the scene. 

          It was definitely an odd one, that was for sure.

          “So, from the top,” Greg sighed, rubbing his eyes, knowing that Donovan had told him the same story three times now, but it still didn’t make sense. Luckily she was on the same page he was. 

           “Got a call for a wellness check after a few days no-show at work. He was coming back from holiday, and had talked about taking a few extra days, so it wasn’t thought to be weird until this morning. Arrived, the doors were locked, so the landlord gets the extra key, everything looks fine, nothing out of place. Check back here, and…” Donovan nodded towards the locked suitcase that no one had yet touched, but everyone could tell there was nothing good about to come out of it from the smell. 

           “Well, I’m really glad I didn’t eat breakfast this morning, you?” Greg joked softly, pulling on a pair of gloves and taking a metal cutter from one of his officers. 

           “Did you really just make a joke about a dead person boss?” Donovan asked, a clear look of annoyance as she covered her face with a cloth and followed behind Greg as he forced the lock and opened the case. Everyone grimaced as the small increased and he took a step back, letting forensics get a few more pictures before he carefully hauled out the now obvious body that was in the bag, frowning at the sight of a set of keys that were tucked in with the man. 

           “There’s keys to the lock inside the bag,” Greg frowned, looking back at the lock again. “This is one that has to be keyed shut, what the hell?” Sherlock walked in at that moment, not even bothering with hellos, and instead just came to stand by his side. 

           “Well, before I start, is there anything you would like to add or should I just get to it? I doubt there is much you can tell me that I can’t get from the scene itself, but I’ve been rather bored recently, so I want this to last,” Greg watched Sherlock as he eyed the scene, shaking his head at how excited he looked over everything he was apparently seeing in the flat that looked horribly plain to everyone else. Only that was the thing that everyone realised was the biggest red flag, that it was plain. There was nothing wrong with the scene except for the fact that they had just pulled a dead body out of a suitcase that had somehow been locked from the inside. 

           “I made a joke earlier that made Donovan want to hit me, so for once she doesn’t like either of us,” Greg offered dryly, smirking to the man that might as well be his brother-in-law before nodding towards the body and turning serious again. “As of right now, we’re working on him being MIA for a week, but we’re looking at getting records on him to see if we can get a better time line. Whatever was leading up to this, it wasn’t rushed.” 

           “Useless information,” Sherlock muttered, moving forward and taking out his small magnifying glass as he moved closer to the body. After a few moments of deduction he stood back, a deep frown creasing his forehead. “Graham, I need your phone, now,” Sherlock held out his hand, not even bothering to look back at him. 

           “Greg, it’s Greg. It always has been Greg, literally forever,” He muttered, for once being able to make that argument without it being a hyperbole. Digging out his mobile, he handed it over to the other man to use. For a moment Greg considered how odd it must have been over time to adapt to new technology, thinking of how much his grandparents would complain about things changing, but that really held nothing in comparison to what Mycroft and Sherlock must have seen over time.  

           “Shut up Mycroft, it doesn’t flatter you to be kind. You need to come here immediately, we’ll send you the address. It’s bad and I think your department needs to be involved.” Greg glared at the detective when he snapped at his brother, frowning as the other directed him to come to the scene. “I would suggest that your team stay away from this, once the government gets involved, they won’t like NSY tampering with their evidence.” 

           “Excuse me? I’m pretty sure that my team can work this scene, even if it’s taken over later by the government. Despite apparent beliefs you hold, we really can do our jobs.” 

           “Of course you would think your team can work this but yet again, you are wrong. This is bad Lestrade. Get your team off the scene now, and believe me when I saw, I don’t run to my brother for help and this is a time where his intervention will be needed. This man is not an ordinary bloke missing from work, this is an undercover MI6 agent who has been left here, unceremoniously, after having been accidentally killed. Yes, accident, there was no way he willingly got into that bag with the keys and died if he hadn’t thought someone would be released him from the confines any time soon. Something went horribly wrong and I have a feeling that MI6 is going to want to cover this up. Whatever their plan was, it wasn’t a good thing, and this is not going to make them happy. So I will repeat myself, have your team leave the scene now, or I’m sure you will have plenty of fun dealing with the red tape and paperwork that will be coming along with this soon enough if they do not.” It was a long winded explanation by Sherlock’s standard, but he was definitely interested in what he would learn when Mycroft would arrive, knowing the elder Holmes would shed some light on the situation, possibly even ask for his help, though it was doubtful. 

           The fact that Sherlock was explaining himself beyond what was absolutely necessary to make himself look brilliant caught Greg off guard, the man for once actually being almost kind in telling him that this was to protect him and his team. 

           “Right,” Greg muttered, chewing his lip for a moment before stepping away and directing Donovan to clear out all non-essential officers to keep the building secure until Mycroft and some of his men could arrive. “You’ll know when they get here,” He promised Sally, sighing heavily as he ran a hand through his hair and returned to Sherlock’s side while he continued to study the scene. “So… what, this is more or less the whole ‘take me in your suitcase’ idea for sneaking from one place to another?”

            “Are you really that dense that you cannot see what has happened here? This man wasn’t the only one occupying the flat here, Lestrade, that much is obvious. Two chairs at the dining room table, two sets of mud splashes by the door where they take off their shoes, two toothbrushes on the bathroom sink, which the door was open so please don’t tell me you didn’t see that. Not to mention, how do you think he locked himself in there? Yes, maybe it was possible for a skilled escape artist to lock himself in the bag, but this man obviously was not skilled in escaping otherwise he wouldn’t have died inside the bag when he had the keys inside with him. Also, there are no fingerprints on the lock and he is not wearing gloves, hence, someone else who was wearing them locked him inside, gave him keys because he was supposed to be dropped at another location, the bag would be unlocked, he would exit, and then get whatever they were looking for, put in back in the bag and lock it with the spare keys. He would then leave. Obviously they didn’t account for something, he was locked in for far too long, suffocated, and they panicked, dumping the body and splitting. I’m sure MI6 will have a field day trying to find their second missing agent, but I’m more curious as to what they were looking for, what was that important that they would go through all this trouble to break in…” Sherlocked mused. Greg set his jaw in annoyance as Sherlock started treating him like an idiot, glaring slightly at him as he waited for him to finish up. 

           “I realise it’s set up for two people, Sherlock. I’m talking about this, right here, the fact that there is a body rather neatly folded into a suitcase, where every other time I have a scene like this, it’s anything but neat and compact,” Greg argued, hating the fact that this wasn’t his first body in a suitcase, but then again, he’d worked homicides for a while now and he felt like he’d seen it all at this point. “It was just a joke about the fact that, according to you, MI6 will actually use people sneaking in through a suitcase as a way to get around security points, like that would actually work.” Groaning again, Sherlock turned and looked at him. 

            “No, you don’t understand. They weren’t using him to sneak in through some security point, of course that doesn’t work, even  _ your  _ team could figure that out. No, the one agent had worked their way into the network they were trying to infiltrate, they set up the man in the suitcase as a decoy. He was known to be a spy to this group, so they were practically delivering him in a handbag, showing the network that he was trustworthy. They would have slipped him a chemical that lowered his heart rate and the criminals would think he was dead. Hours later when they had left his body alone, the man would slip through undetected, grab what they needed and get out. Simple enough really, an operation I am sure they have used many times before. The one thing they didn’t account for was that the network would zip the bag back up and lock it, and the man never came too, instead he ran out of oxygen. The other spy must have realised something wasn’t right when the bag was still in the building, panicked and dumped the body before making off.” Greg stared at Sherlock as he went into further detail about how apparently all of this was supposed to work, trying to figure out if he was making this up or not before realising he was completely serious. No wonder Mycroft was being brought in for all of this. Finding himself slowly opening up to this no longer being his case since the amount of paperwork involved would probably have a direct correlation to global warming, the DI stepped back to call out for Donovan before frowning at the sight of no one else being in the flat. Picking up his radio to call her, Greg’s frown only deepened when his radio buzzed at him every time he pressed the call buttons as if someone else was using the line. 

           “I’m guessing that’s Mycroft’s people?” He sighed, looking over to Sherlock for some sort of confirmation before two men came through the door, brushing past Greg and only giving Sherlock a nod before piling the body back into the suitcase and started to roll it out of the flat like a normal piece of luggage. 

           “We have it from here, Detective Inspector. Thank you for your time.” One of the men called as they walked away, Greg stepping forward to challenge them but was quickly blocked by Sherlock’s arm across his chest. 

           “You can’t just take that, we’ve already logged this as our case. We’ll transfer it over to you, but this is ours,” Greg snapped, pushing Sherlock’s hand off of him but not moving forward. 

           “This never existed, Detective Inspector. Have a good day.” The man called over his shoulder as they left, leaving him fuming. 

           “Sometimes you are too headstrong for you own good Lestrade,” Sherlock muttered, standing back now as his brother walked into the room. 

            “Thank you gentlemen, Craig is awaiting you back at the office, he expects a full report and my brother dearest, will be along shortly to explain his findings.” Mycroft nodded to the men in suits before stepping fully through the door, looking them both over. “Good afternoon Sherlock, I’m rather surprised you called me in on this. We have been wondering why there was radio silence on their end, but I guess this would explain it. No worries though, we have it taken care of, cleaned up, and wiped from the books, never happened.” He gave a short smile over to his brother before turning his attention back to Greg. “My love, I’m sorry you had to stumble upon this. Typically MI6 is far more organised and watches their agents better, but it would seem that Craig is slipping, no surprise really. His review is coming up though and he may find himself in a different position soon enough,” Mycroft mused, smiling as he walked towards him and leaned in for a kiss. Greg snapped, his hand planted firmly on the man’s chest as he held him back, all of his good mood from that morning draining away as the Politician had decided to give as many hollow apologies as possible, like he was one who could be brushed aside so easily. “My dear, what is wrong?” Mycroft questioned, shooting a glare over to Sherlock. 

          “As always brother, you see but you do not observe.” That was all that was said before Sherlock headed out, leaving the two of them alone upstairs. 

          “Really?! What’s Wrong? You’re asking me that right now? Let’s see, you just took a case away from me without asking, without following through the proper channels, without treating me like my team and I exist, and you’re blaming it on Craig like you always do when anything goes wrong at work. Either fire his arse or come up with another excuse for when things go wrong!” Greg snapped, stepping back and pacing the room before bringing himself back down again. “I get it, this is bigger than me, and I realise I’ve been told more than I have clearance for while waiting for you to arrive, but you do  _ not  _ get to wipe up a case that has my name attached to it like it’s a puddle of spilled milk and continue on like it’s nothing. This is very much not ‘nothing’ go it?” 

           “Gregory, I…” Mycroft stopped, his face a look of shock. “I won’t lie to you and tell you that this is nothing, because you are right, this is far from that, and I’m sure Sherlock said something things he shouldn’t have as far as clearance goes, but it really is something I am not at liberty to discuss. For safety reasons more than anything. If the network knew that your team was involved or that we had even planted these men in their operations, there would be far bigger things to be worrying about. We can’t let this be a case, we can’t even have NSY’s name on this because of security. The lives of hundreds of people, including yourself and your team, would be at risk if the network ever got wind of what had taken place in this flat. So I am sorry I have gone over your head without asking, or explaining, I really am, but there wasn’t time for niceties and permissions when all of that was at risk. I can’t afford for those risks to be taken, and I certainly will not allow a threat to be placed on your head because of a man who works under me who couldn’t keep track of his agents.” Greg laughed bitterly as Mycroft explained everything to him, now a bit glad that it was just the two of them in the flat together so no one else saw their spat. 

           “I’m an officer, My. I’ve worked special operations and stings before. I’ve had plenty of threats before, I can stand up for myself.” He said, still shaking his head over everything as he tried to sort out the information the best that he could. The way Mycroft was watching him and how all of his fight had left him once he realised he had messed up, made it a bit hard to stay angry at him, but thinking back on the way he first came in, that apparently, that was how he usually handled situations like this, kept Greg annoyed enough to continue their argument. “Look, I’m not going to pretend to understand your little network of spies and all, but I can tell you right now, there is going to be more suspicion placed on your men by the fact that they’re suddenly going to stop existing as compared to if you had just abandoned them to us. We hold things from the press all the time, we can actually do our jobs and keep things out of the news when asked to work with you all, but you don’t own us, got it? You don’t own me!” 

            “I never stated that I owned you, nor do I ever wish to imply that I do, because I don’t. I know you can withhold things from the press, but that is not our only worry. You are tough, and smart, and I know you can stand on your own and handle yourself, but this network, this  _ man _ we are looking for, he is not your common criminal. He is far beyond anything we have ever seen before, and willing to do things we have never considered a possibility. If he found out that you knew  _ anything,  _ you would be dead seconds after he gave the order. There isn’t a way to protect yourself from this man, he will find whomever he needs and taken them down with ease. I cannot lose you like that, nor would I allow that to be a possibility,” Mycroft paused for a moment, looking rather desperate to get something across to him. “You must realise, to me, your life is rather fragile and…” Stopping again, Mycroft looked like he was about to lose his control. “I’ve only just got you back, I’ve barely had a year with you, and if he knew that we were connected, or that you knew anything, he would do so much more than just kill you Gregory. I can’t let that happen to you because of me, I just can’t,” 

             “Don’t,” Greg cut Mycroft off when his voice started to crack, knowing that he always brought up his mortality and it always set him on edge, but today it just angered him further. “My, just don’t right now, got it? I’m going to die, that’s what people do, isn’t it? We die, but don’t hide me away like you can magically keep that from happening. My point in all of this is that I literally wouldn’t have known anything if you hadn’t stepped in, even with Sherlock involving you. If you’d have just come in, by yourself, and explained that you needed to take everything away, then I would have transferred everything over and we’d have made our covers at work. I’m not angry that there’s things happening in the world that I don’t know about, I’m used to that. Trust me, I’ve lived it. I just… trust my work. I can do my job right. It’s that you act like you control the world and you come in here like it was no big deal. You have to be reminded that people have feelings too, that’s what I’m angry about right now, got it?” 

             “I do trust your work, I know you are very skilled and so is your team. I wouldn’t have trusted them around Sherlock if I didn’t think they were professional enough to handle him and I have known you for centuries and known you are intelligent and can do great things. That is not what this is about. Even if Sherlock hadn’t explained it all to you, and you didn’t actually know anything, the network would still think you did. You can’t reason with mad men. I don’t want to hide you away from the world, or pretend that I can stop what has already happen to me eleven times already. If I could stop it, I would have already. For your safety and others, I couldn’t allow you any more time with this, I couldn’t have even allowed the simple gesture of letting you hand it over, in fact, because it has already been a week or so since this man died, we are already on their radars and measures will have to be taken. Gregory, I am so sorry I stepped on your toes, that I hurt your feelings, but whether you like it or not, I cannot let this man get to you, no matter if you think you can take him or not. The unspeakable horrors he could inflict, no normal person could withstand that. You have every right to be angry that I came in here, took this away, but I wouldn’t have done it any differently. We already wasted enough time finding this dead spy, and we will have a lot of work ahead to clean up this mess, but I can rest a little easier at night knowing that the chance of this  _ spider  _ finding you and torturing you to get to me, are significantly less.” Greg sighed as he looked up at the ceiling, counting to ten and then counting again in French just to get himself calmed down so he wouldn’t do anything stupid. 

            “We’re too stubborn for this, you know that?” Greg finally relented, looking back at Mycroft with a worn and thin smile. “I don’t mean our relationship this, I mean… working together this. When our jobs overlap this. No matter how much you want me to remember everything, I keep feeling like you’re about to pull out a thing and flash away the last couple of hours,” Greg tried to joke to lighten everything up, an honest smile crossing his face for the first time since Mycroft had arrived at the blank stare he received in turn. “Alright, tonight we’re watching Men in Black. You’re also getting rid of Craig when you get back to your office, got it? I’m done dealing with the aftershocks of him working under you.” He sighed, watching the politician to make sure that he was in agreement with changing his staffing, before looking back at the now empty bedroom where the suitcase had been. 

            “I can do that, Craig will be fired, which will take a lot of stress off our department. Finding someone new will be a hassle, but Anthea will be able to do it with ease.” 

             “Also, make sure the family gets a meaningful apology and not just some money sent their way. Suffocation is a hellish way to go, he didn’t deserve that.”  

             “I will see what I can do for his family without drawing too much attention to the situation, I promise. We don’t work well together like this, though I will admit, we never have worked together before and you are right, we are far too stubborn. In the future, when your life is not at stake, I will be far kinder with these situations. I don’t like stepping on your toes or taking control, at least not in this aspect. I’m sorry love, I really am. I just, find that I care far too much for you and worry about you constantly.” Greg sighed as Mycroft pulled him into a hug, smiling faintly to himself as he let his eyes drift shut and relax for a grand total of thirty seconds. “I’m so very sorry love, how can I make it up to you?” 

             “I don’t want you to make it up to me. I just want you to hear me out and do better next time, alright? Don’t just slap an apology on it and continue on, change it so you won’t need an apology next time, got it?” He said before kissing Mycroft’s hair and pulling back to look him in the eye. “I know you’re sorry, and I love you too, but I need you to stop apologising and we both need to get back to work. I’ll make a note at the office that if anything especially odd comes up to contact me immediately since it’ll be figured out at least with the higher ups that this is going on. At least that way, if it needs to be handed over, it can be done easier right? That work for you?” 

              “I will I promise. At least, let me take you to lunch. I know you didn’t have breakfast this morning, so I think a good meal is needed. I will make sure that if you contact us, that I will be the one to personally deal with the situation and that no one will be in contact with you other than myself, that way they don’t steam roll you either, now, time for lunch.” Greg smiled as he took Mycroft’s hand, rubbing his thumb along the man’s wrist as he allowed himself to be led out. It was a bit disconcerting to see the amount of security that had taken up around the flat, but at least it looked like the rest of his team had already left. There were a number of messages on his mobile from Donovan asking him what the hell was going on, but he would deal with that later. Resting against Mycroft’s shoulder as he road with him, he looked out the window as they pulled off to the side, humming softly at the sight of the restaurant Sherlock had mentioned a few times. Apparently he was friendly with the son who had a tendency to find himself in trouble for little things now and again. 

             “Italian? You should really take me to the real place, you know.” 

             “Would you be upset if I told you that I already plan on doing so? I have been looking for good flights and having our house prepped in Rome so that we might have a holiday there for our anniversary my dear.” Mycroft held the door open for him as they walked through, smiling as the server greeted them and took them to a seat by the window, handing them the menus and moving to grab them drinks. “You said that we could go for our one year anniversary, so I have it all set. All that is left is for you to request the time off and to try and teach you some Italian before we leave,” Mycroft chuckled as they looked over their menus. When the server came back, they ordered their dishes and thanked the man before returning to their conversation. “I want to take you to where we first met, where we had our first date, maybe a traditional bath house, a few other sights, and some other special spots for us, if that’s alright?” 

             “A bath house?” Greg asked with a smirk, wiggling his eyebrows a bit and laughing as he sipped at his water. Of course he wanted something stronger, but he was sure there would be plenty of stress to last him till he got home and could have a drink. “I’d love to go to Rome with you and see it from your side, and of course I wouldn’t be upset about that. I’ll make sure to put in the request when I get back so there won’t be a problem with it. It’ll be fun,” He grinned, reaching out to offer his hand for Mycroft to take, Greg squeezing his hand lightly as he sighed. “I’m sorry I snapped at you like that. I really shouldn’t have.” 

             “No Gregory, it is I who should apologise. I was inconsiderate, I stepped over toes and crossed lines that I shouldn’t have without speaking to you. You had every right to be cross with me, and I don’t hold that against you. I should have explained to you before just taking control. Sometimes I get so caught up in the moment that I forget about simple things like that, and sometimes I worry too much and it comes off wrong. Please, forgive me.” Mycroft gave a genuine apology, looking to him with a heartfelt smile. “For as smart as I am, I can be rather thick sometimes, especially when it comes to others, as you have clearly seen. I sometimes wonder how you deal with Sherlock and I.” 

            “Sometimes I do too. I think it’s because fate won’t allow me to do otherwise,” Greg teased gently, lifting Mycroft’s hand to kiss his fingers. “I love both of you though, and loving someone means that there’s a difference between being angry with them, and not liking them. Look at Christmas, you were genuinely annoyed over the tree at first. You were angry at Anthea and myself over it, but you still love us. Just because I am angry doesn’t mean I stop liking you.” He promised, smiling when he saw the color on Mycroft’s cheeks. “It’s simply something to think about. I forgive you, I promise.” 

             “Yes, well, someone should give you a medal for dealing with us on a daily basis, it is a feat very few can do.” Mycroft chuckled, letting go of his hand when the server brought around their food. “Well, this looks rather delicious, wouldn’t you say? I guess it’s the Roman in me, always loving seafood.” Greg hummed as he looked down at his simplistic fettuccine alfredo, knowing it wasn’t anything special but something that he always enjoyed. “You will have to have my mother cook for you sometime though, I’m sure you would love her food.” 

             “Meet your parents? Have I before?” Greg asked, already feeling nervous at the thought of meeting them. It was always intimidating to meet someone’s parents, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to think about what it would be like to meet someone, who’s already met you eleven other times. “Sounds almost as nerve wracking as meeting the Queen. Just, you know, different reasons.” 

             “You have met them during each life, and they know and love you very much, always have. My father wouldn’t have given me the bracelet if he didn’t think fondly of you. There is no need to be nervous. You had yourself all worked up to meet Lizzy and that went far better than you had expected. My parents are nothing like Sherlock and I, that is something to take note in. They are very kind, sweet people, but very humble as well. They love going to the opera, staying at home with each other, and just like any other old couple, my parents were in their thousands when they had us and are now content to spend their ‘golden years’ at home with an empty nest. Sherlock would have other words to describe them like boring and dull and simple, but you know how he is. There’s no rush on meeting them though, so whenever you are ready my dear.” 

              “And you worry about your age,” Greg teased softly. The pasta was good, and he continued to eat as he tried to think back on ever meeting the parents, though he was coming up blank. “It’s because I want to make a good impression on everyone who’s important to you. Everyone wants that, you know?” He shrugged, but if he was honest with himself, he did want to meet Mycroft’s parents and didn’t feel  _ as  _ nervous as he did about the Queen. Parents or not, it was certainly the royal title that threw him off about meeting Mycroft’s friend. “I’d love to meet your parents some time, when we’re able to. It would be nice.” 

              “That is the beauty about it all though, you have already made a good impression on them, so you just have to be yourself and they have to make a good impression on you, seeing as it’s your first time meeting them.” Mycroft pointed out, finishing his dish and setting down his silverware. “How is your pasta my dear, you seem to be enjoying it. I take it this place is up to your chef standards?” Mycroft questioned, raising his brow and smiling to him. “You will meet them someday, when you are ready. They are in no hurry, what with the fact that they literally are going nowhere anytime soon,” Greg chuckled at the admittedly bad pun about his parents not going anywhere, thinking of his own meeting Mycroft. They were pretty liberal leaning, not minding the fact that their son was bi and had brought a few boyfriends along to meet them over the years, but it was different now. Everything felt different really when it came to Mycroft, between the fact that he remembered so much about their past together and that he was married. His parents were just glad that he had moved on, and that he was happy again. His mother had even dropped a few hints that they would would like to meet their son’s new ‘love’. 

             “My parents want to meet you too. Though, it may be a bit more urgent to meet them… maybe not my Grandmere though. She’s still a bit conservative. Hates Caroline, though. Called her a bitch the last time I talk to her,” Greg chuckled, dropping his voice down a bit as the waiter returned with Mycroft’s card and the bill. “Don’t really know what she would think of us to be honest.” 

            “Well, I would love to meet your parents. To have raised a son like you, they would have to be lovely people. Is this grandmother the one you call Mémé? Well, no matter, if you ever want me to meet her, I am fine with that, if you don’t I understand as well.” Standing, they both moved out of the building and towards the car, Greg slipping in first. “Well, as much as I despise it, I have to bring you back. I will deal with Craig as promised, and we will have drinks tonight. Maybe we can also look at a few places in Rome that you would like to visit and start learning some basic Italian?” 

             “Hello, goodbye, please, thank you and bathroom are really all you need to know when traveling.” Greg chuckled, leaning on Mycroft’s shoulder as they drove off. 

            “You make a good point. Right, well I am sorry for what you will have to deal with when you get back, I can’t apologise enough. Hopefully I can make it up to you later tonight.” 

            “Depending on what time we both get home, that will probably decide what we have for dinner to be honest. At this point I wouldn’t mind just having left overs from earlier this week and some beer.” He admitted, rubbing his face and sighing as he watched the city pass by. “I’ll see you tonight yeah? I’ll be looking forward to planning our trip, something to get excited for,” Greg smiled as the car stopped in front of the yard and he slipped out, placing one last kiss on Mycroft lips before standing back and watching the car go. After a few moments he took a deep breath and turned around, bracing himself for what was coming next. 


	17. XVI

           “Gregory, I do hope that you have packed already. We leave on a plane tomorrow morning and you have procrastinated long enough.” Mycroft called, grabbing a few things from different places within the house that they would need, and sending off a few other messages to Anthea. She had happily agreed to watch over the house and office while he was gone, but he wanted to make sure he had left nothing unthought of. Moving up the stairs, Mycroft looked to the bedroom where Gregory was placing things inside his rather empty suitcase. Sighing, he moved over to the other and wrapped his arms around the man’s waist. “Love, do you need help packing? I don’t want you to forget anything, and I still can’t believe you waited so long to do this. I have had mine packed for the last few days,” Mycroft chuckled, kissing the man’s neck as he teased him, looking to the case and noting what he already had in their, and making a mental list of the other things he would need.

           “It’s not that hard to pack, and now you’re just purposefully being a distraction now.” Greg grinned, running a hand through Mycroft’s hair and scratching along his scalp. “We’re going for a week, so all I need is a few pairs of jeans, seven shirts, pants, some socks, soap, razor, deodorant and I’m good. You’re the one with the fancy suits.” 

          “Your phone charger, sunglasses, good walking trainers, shampoo, a book or something to keep you entertained in case the weather acts up, and I could keep going. I think you get the point though…” Mycroft nipped at the man’s neck, giving him a few soft bits and purring, chuckling as the other squirmed beneath his touch. 

          “Now you’re just doing that on purpose love, come on. You can’t fuss at me only to keep me from getting ready now. Let me finish and then you can have at me.” Mycroft chuckled and let go after licking another stripe up the man’s neck and nibbling at his ear. Sitting on the bed, he watched as Gregory finished packing, lovingly reminding the other of a few things he forgot along the way. 

          “Better to be prepared then to realise you didn’t pack it later.” Mycroft stated when the other rolled his eyes at him and sighed, giving him a playful smile. 

          “Yes, well I don’t think I’ll pack a book or something to keep me entertained, because I have you. It is our anniversary after all,” Gregory argued, tossing a pair of socks at him that of course nailed him directly in the face. It wasn’t long before he finally finished and set the suitcase aside, joining him on the bed and climbing up onto his lap. “See? Told you it wasn’t that big of a deal.” Gregory murmured, cupping Mycroft’s face in his hands and kissing him gently, slowly trailing his hands down to his shoulders. “I love you. I’m so happy we’re doing this, I really am.” Mycroft gave him a pointed look and rest his hands on the man’s hips, humming as the other kissed him. 

          “I love you too Gregory. I haven’t been to Rome in a long time, it will be lovely to be there again with you. A tad different, as it has been centuries and I’m sure a lot has changed, but it will be nice.” Mycroft moved his hands over the other’s back and slipped them under the shirt so he could feel Gregory’s skin beneath his fingertips. “Are you excited to be flying first class for the first time?” He questioned, looking up at the other as he continued to kneed the man’s skin. “I have done it plenty of times, so it is nothing new for me, but I think you will like it. I made sure you had a window seat as well, and that it is a higher class jet that will be taking us so you have the best experience.” 

          “I really am. More than I think I ought to be.” Gregory admitted with a grin, looking down at him. “I’m excited about a lot, really. Flying, being in Rome, seeing it with you. Seeing it in general. I feel like a child. Thank you… for everything.” 

          “For you my dear, anything.” It was true, Mycroft would do anything for this man, anything he asked for. Going to Rome with him, treating him in every way possible, that was only just a small taste of the extent he would go to. “As long as you are happy, then so am I. I am looking forward to a few things in particular though, like seeing you once again in a toga, and going to a bath house. It has been ages since I have experienced either of those things, but I can’t tell you how much I am looking forward to them. I only hope that our clothes still fit us. I think I have put on a bit of weight since I last wore mine, and well… you had a totally different body, but we shall see.” Mycroft had his Roman clothes preserved when the science for it had come about, having taken good care of them up until that point. They were rather special to him and they were one of the few outfits that he had saved over time, and maybe it was his sentimentality towards his first true home. Nevertheless, he had got Gregory to agree to try them on and take a photograph for old times sake. 

          “The fact that I am wearing a toga should prove my love for you.” Gregory rolled his eyes, rubbing his fingers along the back of Mycroft’s neck. “Do you think we’ll be able to make some of your Roman recipes while we’re there? I’d assume we’d have a better chance of finding some of the ingredients there instead of the shops here.” 

           “I think we can try. You might have to do the cooking, so maybe we should grab that lovely cookbook you translated for me for Christmas before we go as well. I can’t say that I know the recipes by heart, but I can try and help to the best of my capacities.” Mycroft leaned in and trailed kisses over the man’s neck, nothing heated or pressing, just nibbling and teasing as he answered the other. “Mmm, I love you my dear, and as much as I want to take you right now, I’m afraid you will be rather tired in the morning as it is. I wanted us to have an early flight so that we could have most of the day to explore the city tomorrow, so that does mean an earlier bedtime.” Laying a kiss on the man’s throat, he pulled back and looked up at Gregory, a soft smile on his lips. 

          “I’m going to be tired in the morning no matter what, you know me. I could sleep for ten hours, but if I get up before nine in the morning, I’m grumpy.” The man laughed, protesting his push for sleep. “I’ll still be following you a bit like a lost dog while we are there. I think I can speak just enough Italian that they know they can laugh at me. I don’t even have the excuse that I’m trying,” Greg smiled, brushing his fingers through Mycroft’s hair before moving them to rest on his chest. “I’m so excited to go with you, I really am. Thank you.” 

          “I’m excited as well, and really glad I am going back for the first time, in a very long time, with you my dear. Now, come, let’s get to sleep.” Mycroft leaned up once more to press a quick kiss to the man’s lips before patting him on the legs, waiting for the other to shift off him before bringing his legs under the blankets and turning off the lamp. “Good night Gregory.” He said lovingly as the other curled up to his chest. 

 

           In the morning, Mycroft woke early, leaving Gregory to sleep till it was absolutely necessary that they leave. Moving about the house, he brought all of their bags to the front door and unlocked it, knowing that his driver was outside and would be coming in soon to collect their things. Moving back towards the kitchen, he started a pot of coffee and then moved to toast a bagel for the other, knowing it would be better if he had a bit of food in him before they left. When it came down to the last minute, Mycroft moved back upstairs and walked over to where Gregory lay, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the man’s forehead. 

            “Good morning love, it’s time to get up,” His voice was soft as he ran a hand over the other’s head, smiling when he gave a groan and stretched. There were a few mutters that he couldn’t quite understand, but he was sure Gregory was complaining and asking for five more minutes. When the other finally peeked up at him, he let out another complaint. 

           “You’re already dressed,” Gregory threw a arm over his eyes and groaned again, stretching once more before sighing. “Which means you’ve probably already gave me my five more minutes. Rome will still be there for the afternoon flight, you know.” 

           “Yes, I have given you a lot of extra time my dear. All of our bags are already packed in the car, and coffee and a bagel await you downstairs.” The politician smiled as he moved to stand, ready to grab an outfit for the other when he was pulled back for a kiss. 

            “You know you’re not allowed to wake me up without a kiss.” 

            “I did kiss you this morning, but I’m guessing that anywhere but on the lips doesn’t count?” Mycroft questioned, laughing again as he placed a few more soft kisses to the other before standing once more. “Now, your outfit is laid out at the end of the bed. I will be downstairs finishing my breakfast. If I do not see you down in five minutes though, so help me Gregory... I will call Sherlock, who I think would be more than happy to wake you from your sleep.” Mycroft raised a brow as he looked to the other, smiling playfully before walking back downstairs. 

           “I love you, but don’t  _ ever  _ speak of inviting your brother into our bedroom ever again!” Gregory shouted after him as he walked down the stairs. Mycroft chuckled and shook his head as he walked into the kitchen, taking a seat at the table and picking up the paper, reading over it as he finished his english muffin. “How are you awake this early? How are you even human at this time?” Mycroft heard Gregory complain as he joined him a few minutes later, moving to kiss him on the cheek before taking a seat across from him and nibbling on his food. 

           “Well, my dear, some of us have a country to run, and as you are well aware, she does not behave herself even in the earliest of hours.” He chuckled, smiling to the other as he finished his food. “Shall we?” When they had put their dishes away, Mycroft moved to the front door with Gregory in tow, locking up behind them and nodding to his security team before entering the car. “I only sleep what some would call ‘regular hours,’ when you are around. Between those times, I am much more like Sherlock, where I can go for long periods of time on little sleep. I guess it is a lot like normal people, when they get older, they need less sleep. When you are in your twilight years, you can go to bed later and still wake up quite early, because your body doesn’t need as much sleep as it used to. I am past two thousand years, so what can we make of that?” Smiling, Mycroft watched as the car pulled away from the house and onto the streets, making their way towards Heathrow. “I know you will have no problem falling asleep on the plane. I have seen some of the places you are able to sleep, and these chairs will be like plush mattresses compared to them.” 

          “You know, I think your age makes you the definition of a cradle robber, but I’m sure that’s besides the point.” Gregory muttered, and Mycroft stilled, looking to him with a frown. “Mio amore, it’s a joke. Your age really doesn’t count since you’re immortal.” 

           “At least I can still get younger men. You had to go older, much older. What does that say for you?” He quipped back, raising a brow when the other spoke Italian, or well, a few words of it. 

          “It means that I like my men experienced. Italian is a romance language, it would be odd if I hadn’t at least learned how to say something sappy. As for sleeping curled up in a desk chair, it isn’t exactly a point of pride for me, just a necessity sometimes.” 

          “Oserei dire che il latino è il vero linguaggio di Romance.”  _ I dare say that Latin is the true romance language.  _ He was a bit biased though, having always had a fondness for his mother tongue. Then again, most languages derived from Latin, like French, Spanish and Italian, as well as Portuguese, so that made it the heart of all things Romantic in his book. “It is a good thing you are handsome, that will help you go far without knowing anything more than the basics,” Mycroft chuckled, watching as they drew closer and closer to the airport. Just a few more hours and he would be home again, with Gregory by his side, moving through their old streets. He wondered what sorts of memories and feelings would be pulled from deep within when walking through such familiar surroundings. 

          “I have no idea what you said, but thank you for calling me handsome,” Gregory beamed, climbing out after Mycroft as they pulled up to the airport, taking his bag from the boot and following after him. Normally, he preferred his private work jet when he traveled, but as this was not a business trip, he would have to settle for a regular passenger plane. That didn’t mean though, that he would have to deal with security and all of their nonsense. When they reached the TSA, Mycroft flashed his government badge and they gave him a quick nod before escorting the both of them to another lane, not making them remove almost every article of clothing, or emptying their bags. Instead, they were able to make it to their gate with minimal hassle and as they stood there, Mycroft smiled as Gregory went off and got coffee, joining him again and slipping his hand casually into his own. “Love you,” 

          “I love you as well darling. We should be boarding soon. I have made sure that we will be getting on first, and off first as well. We also have a car waiting for us at the airport to take us back to the domus as well.” As much as he could see the excitement rolling off the other in waves, he looked calm and collected himself. On the inside it was a different story. It was almost exhilarating to be finally returning home, back to his sweet Rome, with the man he loved. Sure, it wouldn’t be exactly the same, but it was home and always would be for him. Mycroft’s brow furrowed as all of the sudden Gregory darted off. He wasn’t sure what he was doing until he saw him meet with a little girl. Normally he wouldn’t let his walls down in public, but here he was, the love of his life, helping another child just like he had with Sherlock all those years ago. Mycroft watched, his heart melting as he smiled and spoke to the little girl, feeling a flutter in his chest when she smiled back at him, a grin playing across his lips as the mom thanked him for his help. When Gregory returned to his side, Mycroft barely thought of the consequences before leaning down and kissing the man passionately, pulling the silver haired fox to his side. When he broke the kiss, he opened his eyes to look at the man who had an expression of confusion on his face. “You reminded me of why I fell in love with you the first time Gregory,” His voice was soft as he looked into those brown eyes he knew so well. “Seeing you with that little girl, it reminded me of you and Sherlock. It also makes me ache for a family of our own, a little girl just like that. You would be a great father.” 

          “So would you, what with the way you always watch over Sherlock.” Greg murmured, resting his head on Mycroft’s shoulder as they started loading the flight. The kiss was already much more than he would ever typically show in public, but if he were one to go all out, he would have showered the man in affection, peppered him with kisses and go on about how he wanted to have a little girl with him. It was a good thing that he could show some restraint though, as it would have been too much and far too embarrassing for both himself and Gregory. Mycroft did keep the other close though, wrapping his arm around the man’s shoulders as they moved towards the gate, and boarding the plane first and taking a seat after the other. “This is ridiculous. Seriously. This is nearly as nice as your mattress back home.” Mycroft smiled as the other looked about, pushing the different buttons and discovering what all they did with a large grin on his face. 

           “Nearly would be a key word. My mattress is better than this, and if you asked me, I would say by far, but that might be where our opinions differ,” He chuckled, putting up his feet and pulling out his neck pillow for the ride, leaning back and taking the other’s hand. 

           “My, we’ll have a family one day, I’m sure of it. You’ll be a great dad too, how couldn’t you be? You’re brilliant, and would probably figure out what they want before they even knew.” Gregory’s voice was soft as he looked over to him, Mycroft’s smile faint, a tinge of sadness in his eyes as he thought of it. 

           “I know, I just… seeing you with children like that, knowing that is what drew me to you first, I have never wanted something more than that my dear. To be with you forever, and to have a child together.” Mycroft leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on the man’s lips. 

           “One day,” Gregory promised softly, returning the kiss before settling back in his chair. After a few moments, the family of the little girl passed, the child squealing in excitement as she spotted Gregory, the man laughing and waving as she passed. “One day we’ll have that, I’m sure. You know there is nothing more I want more than to have a family of my own.” 

          “I can just imagine it love, a little girl, with your smile and your eyes, squealing with laughter as you chase her around the house, or when she comes to her dad's for advice on her first crush…. When she goes on her first date and we meet whomever it is she’s with to make sure they understand that if they break our little girls heart, we will find them. I can imagine her wedding day, when we both walk her down the aisle, or watching you dance with her during the father daughter dance. All of it. It’s something I have always wanted with you.” Gregory had always been good with children, and there was always little ones that seemed to flock to him wherever they went. Usually Gregory would find himself caring for the little ones while Mycroft was at work, like with Lizzy when she was younger, and no matter how many years passed, it was always something that made his heart flutter and melt. 

           “I wish we could have that now,” Gregory muttered, looking up at him with a soft smile. “Why not… why not look into it? For the both of us?” Mycroft’s smile started to fade to a sad, pained expression as he looked down, his heart aching just a tad more. 

          “Gregory, I can’t. You know the risks… what if they are mortal, what if I have to lose the both of you?” Mycroft kept his voice down, not wanting to draw attention to their conversation, but also not wanting anyone to overhear his words about mortals and immortals. “When I have you, when you stay, then we can, right away, I promise. Until then, I don’t think I could…” He gave the other a forced grin, trying to show that he was sorry they couldn’t do it sooner, but hoping the other would understand. “Maybe Rome will unlock something for you my dear, I have never been back with you before, so we shall see what wonders being home will do for you.” 

          “I know,” Gregory sighed and nodded, squeezing Mycroft’s hand as he looked away and out the window. He had tried to sound hopeful, but he knew it was a tender subject for the both of them. “I am excited about Rome. Even if I don’t remember anything new, it’ll still be exciting just to be there. I do at least want to be a tourist for a day or two, see the Coliseum and the museums and all that. It’s fun sometimes.” 

          “You used to race chariots in the Coliseum for sport,” Mycroft mused, remembering when Gregory had taken a spot back in Rome with the army, and during his training he would have free time to race chariots in competitions. That form fitting armour hugging his body so well… He smiled at the memory, looking over to the other and feeling a tad excited that he would see the other in those robes once again. When the plane took off, Mycroft closed his eyes and took deep breaths, knowing he always seemed to get sick when they were taking off and landing, and only closing his eyes, taking small sips of water and breathing deep would stop him from losing his breakfast in a bag. Once in the air, he never had an issue, but something about changing altitudes like that made his stomach queasy. They only had a few hours till they would land, and until then, he would be reading his book and more than likely, Gregory would be falling asleep in the plush seat next to him. 

*****

          “Gregory, dear, we’re over the mountains… Look.” Greg woke up slowly when Mycroft kissed his forehead, blinking awake a bit easier than from that morning, smiling faintly up at him before forcing himself up to look out the window. 

          “Wow,” he breathed, grinning at the sight of the Alps spreading out below them as far as he could see. “They’re beautiful,” Greg said after a minute, looking over at Mycroft with a grin. “When I was younger, I tried snowboarding once. There’s a reason why it was only once, I think I spent as much time on my arse as I did on my feet.” He chuckled, sitting back in his seat again. “How are you feeling?” 

           “I’m sure you would do far better than I would.” Mycroft smiled, taking his hand a squeezing it. “Far better, thank you for asking. I can’t say it will stay that way when he descended, but for now, I am just fine. Did you sleep well? I hope you are rested enough, because we have a long day ahead of us. First I want to go back to the domus, unpack, maybe go out and have a nice lunch, then we can go around and sight see for a bit. Tomorrow though, we will be starting out early and I will be taking you on a trip ‘back in time,” Greg chuckled as he listened to Mycroft list off everything he wanted them to do, pretty sure the man’s plans would probably spread over the next few days, but then again, they were there for a week. 

            “I’m pretty sure the rest of the day is mostly going to be going off coffee and adrenaline, but I don’t think I'll fall asleep on you.” Greg joked, squeezing Mycroft’s hand in his. “A trip back in time? What do you mean by that?” He asked after a moment, not sure what exactly he meant by that, but curious all the same. “Definitely wondering what you’re up to.” He grinned and settled his head on the man’s shoulder. 

           “I don’t want to spoil the surprise, but let me just say that I plan to recreate a little of our history together.” Mycroft gave a sly smirk and placed a kiss on his head. “Don’t worry about it, just enjoy everything that I have planned for us. I want you to experience everything that made our home country great.” It wasn’t long till they were landing and Mycroft went back to closing his eyes and sitting stiff in his seat, Greg holding tight to his hand and giving him water to try and keep him from tossing his breakfast. They left the plane first and moved towards the baggage claim, finding their things before meeting a driver who held a sign reading ‘Holmes’ on it and walking to the car. Greg was distracted by the sights of Rome out the window as they made their way through the city, a vague feeling of deja vu settling over him as they passed different ruins and buildings. Leaving the main heart of Rome and getting into the outskirts, Greg whistled low in surprise as they pulled up outside of Mycroft’s domus. 

           “This is gorgeous. We really lived here?” 

           “Yes, after we came back from Egypt and you took up with the Roman army, we purchased this house together. Unfortunately neither of our birth homes still exist, but our first home in Rome together does and I have struggled throughout the years to keep it under my ownership. It’s a lot harder than you would think when no one lives here full time.” Greg hummed softly, sure that it would be rather tricky to keep something under the same name for thousands of years, especially when it was under one name and not being passed on from generation to generation. 

           “As long as it has power and indoor plumbing, I won’t complain too much,” He teased, obviously distracted as he looked around the beautiful estate, taking it all in at once. 

           “This is the main hall, the atrium, and there are bedrooms surrounding this area, and a bathroom was put in just across the hall here. To the right is our bedroom where we can leave our bags and we’ll come back to when the tour is done,” Following Mycroft into the bedroom and putting his things aside, Greg wrapped an arm around the man’s waist and trailed a few light kisses along his neck. 

            “Later, I know, but this is… amazing. Gorgeous, fantastic. I can’t believe all of this.” He chuckled, not caring if he sounded like an excited child. “I’m amazed you’re in London now. I don’t think I would have ever left this place.” 

           “Yes, well it does make it hard to stay here when all I can think about is you, and you are not here.” Greg’s smile faltered slightly when Mycroft mentioned losing him, pressing another light kiss to his cheek before they parted slightly, exploring the different rooms and trailing his fingers along the bricks as he allowed the ghosts of memories to pass over him. Little whispers of evenings together and parties, though there was nothing specific that he could pull out. Returning to Mycroft’s side as they finished the tour, they started unpacking, watching as the other stopped at the closet and pulled out a collection of obviously old cloth carefully wrapped up and in storage. 

           “What are those?” He asked, wrapping his arms around Mycroft’s middle and resting his cheek on his shoulder. “Something tells me you’re going to put me in those aren’t you?” 

           “These are the only surviving robes that I have left from Roman time. They have been carefully preserved and put in storage since then. I haven’t seen these in centuries. I asked the staff to bring them out, just for a night or so.” Mycroft seemed so careful as he lay them out on the bed and unzipped the plastic that held them. “I did want to see you in your old clothes again, and to have a picture if you will let me,” 

           “Of course I will put them on, but you have to as well,” Greg teased, reaching out to brush his fingers over the cloth. It was far softer than he had expected, for some reason he assumed that everything would be rough and itchy from the past. “Come on, you’ll have to dress me in that because I don’t even know where to start,” He said with a nod, smiling at the obvious excitement in Mycroft’s eyes. “You’re adorable when you’re like this, you know that?” 

            “I planned on putting on mine as well. Just follow my lead,” Greg felt like he deserved an award for not getting distracted by Mycroft undressing and standing in front of him in only his pants, especially seeing as they were in a bedroom of their own. Mycroft was on a mission though, and Greg kept himself under control enough to follow along with how to put on a toga, definitely not remembering this part at all though he felt like he should. He wanted to, desperately, and perhaps that was just it, he never remembered anything when he really wanted to. Once they were dressed, Greg chuckled as he looked down at himself, feeling a bit like he was in a costume while the politician looked far more natural in the robes. 

            “It feels good to see you like this again my love,” 

           “They definitely fit you better than they do me. Guess that’s to be expected since I’m sort of in a different body now, but you look like a natural.” Greg chuckled, kissing Mycroft’s nose as he always loved to do. 

            “Thank you for humouring me, it means a lot that you would do this for me,” Mycroft smiled as he moved and grabbed a tripod and the camera, walking to the atrium. 

            “Pretty sure you’ve entertained me enough that you’ve more than earned this.” Greg chuckled, helping Mycroft move the camera around so they could get just the right picture of the two of them. No matter what personality Mycroft played, he knew that the man was extremely sentimental, as seen by his gift of the cookbook, and the fact that he kept pictures of the two of them throughout the years. Waiting patiently for everything to be right, he held out till the last second to lean over and kiss Mycroft’s cheek, smiling to himself as he heard the shutter go off. “Love you My, so very much.” 

            “I love you as well,” Mycroft moved forward and gently kissed him again, the camera going off as he smiled against his lips. Greg could do little more than smile as Mycroft continued along with his derailment of their pictures, sure that these would be far better than standing side by side stiff and fake. 

            “Silly man,” He shivered as Mycroft's breath ghosted along his ear, smiling fondly while the other moved to get the camera and take a few of just him. Shaking his head in amusement, Greg allowed Mycroft to take all the pictures he wanted, slowly getting sillier and sillier with the faces he was making until they were both laughing. “Come on, you know me well enough by now to know that I can’t be serious for too long. Let’s get one more of the two of us not making out, one that you can put in your book and I wouldn’t be horrified for Anthea to happen across.” 

            “Are you saying you don’t want Anthea to see pictures of us snogging like teens? How opposed would you be if I were to print this photo to keep at home?” Mycroft clicked through the photos, stopping on the one where it look like he was whispering to him, and Greg’s expression was pure love and bit of lust. Greg felt his cheeks blush as he was teased about being seen naked by Anthea, having a feeling it had happened in the past. 

            “Maybe not this time around,” He decided, hoping that was fair enough. Looking over the picture Mycroft had in mind, Greg smiled fondly at the screen before nodding. “I love it. If it wasn’t for the fact that I know I’d have questions about it, I’d ask for one on my desk as well,” He chuckled, giving Mycroft a quick kiss to the cheek before heading back to the bedroom. “Come on, let’s head out into the town.” 

            “Well, this won’t be the only pictures we take during this trip, and I’m pretty sure you will have some to choose from that are less… question provoking.” Greg just smiled and shook his head as they undressed, carefully putting the robes back in their bag and hanging them up in the closet. 

            “I look forward to it then,” He smiled, getting dressed again and following Mycroft as they exited the domus and headed to the town center, his hand tightly clasping the others, excited for this adventure to begin. 


	18. XVII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry this was late! I had it finished yesterday and totally forgot to post it!

          Greg tagged along happily with Mycroft, listening to the man’s passion about their home and the history they had once been a part of. Smiling fondly at the other before getting on the bus, he continued to watch the city pass around them through the windows. While there was a certain charm to the area on the outskirts of what he could only assume was the old walls of the city, he was just as excited to see the main landmarks that you always saw in magazines and tour books. 

          “It’s all so… big,” Greg finally settled on, not sure of how else to describe the city as their stop came up. Quickly saying his thanks to the driver as they got off, he continued to gawk at the buildings surrounding them. “I mean, London is too, but… wow.” 

          “Well, a lot like the British Empire, the Roman Empire was vast and spread across many countries and seas, and their capital here in Rome was supposed to be a reflection of their wealth and power. The city was large and monumental, and holds a lot of history for most of Europe. I know you wanted to see the Colosseum, so I have scheduled a tour for us.” They walked together through the streets till they came upon the massive structure, Greg’s eyes lighting up as he took out the camera and snapped a few pictures, smiling as Mycroft looked to him with a grin, his eyes rolling as he chuckled. “You spent a lot of time here, as your job trained in the Colosseum, and your hobbies happened to be here as well. There were the gladiators, as you know, chariot racing and even boat battles inside the Colosseum. Luckily for me, when the building was first constructed, they had large curtains they would extend to cover the seating areas to shade the guests. You know how I am with heat, so that was a god send.” 

          “Tell me I didn’t look like that, though,” Greg murmured as he eyed the men dressed up in Halloween costumes, charging for people to take photos with the ‘Gladiators’. Once inside, it began to settle slightly, fewer tourists, though there still were plenty. Smiling and shaking their tour guide’s hand, he was content to follow along Mycroft’s side as she spoke about the history of the building and what they believed different things were used for. Greg squeezed Mycroft’s hand now and again when he would clear his throat, obviously wanting to correct something, but thankfully he behaved himself. “What’s over there?” Greg asked as they passed a hall that was chained off, feeling an instinctive tug towards it, enough that he dropped Mycroft’s hand and started over to it. 

          “Those are the rooms the Gladiator’s would stay in between battles. A locker room of sorts.” She explained, Greg nodding slightly though he was hardly paying attention as he felt his head swim. 

          “Could I sit? For a minute? Haven’t had much to eat since early this morning, could probably use some water…” Mycroft followed him closely, leaning down and placing a hand on his shoulder. 

          “This was where you would get ready for the races, and there had been a couple times I had visited you down here… possible for a little pre-race ‘pep’ talk,” The man purred, kissing him on the cheek before pulling away. A water bottle was handed to him and he took a few sips, trying to get his grip back. 

> _ Gregori toyed with his ring as one of his fellow Gladiators tied the strings to his armour, smiling his thanks to the man before setting to help the other to put his helmet on. There wasn’t much to talk about really, they were both simply trying to get their minds focused for their next fight. Gregori was starting to get rather popular among the audiences for his fighting, and the other man who was on his team that day was still new, and it was obvious that he was nervous about what he had gotten himself into.  He was one of the slaves, though, and the language barrier between them made it hard for Gregori to even assure him that he would have his back and it would be okay. Taking up his shield and spear, he nodded to the other man once more as he stepped aside and said what he could only assume was a prayer in his language. Moving out of the gate, Gregori smiled up at where he knew Mycroft always sat, just able to make out the man’s red hair and Sherlock’s dark curls bouncing excitedly next to him. The boy was almost a son to him at this point, and he adored them both, and he would always fight his hardest for their honour. _

          “You… you were my… my sponsor.” Greg said softly, grimacing slightly as he tried to shake himself back to this reality, though he was still swallowed by the smell of sawdust, blood, and animal waste of the larger animals they would fight. “My head really hurts. It just takes a few minutes to sort out my head,” He complained, continuing to sip at his water. 

          “You remember being here, don’t you?” Mycroft’s voice was soft, and all Greg could manage was to nod, looking up at Mycroft when he was guided to do so. “Do you want to tell me about it?” Having him there, now, back in his suit instead of his robes, his hair brushed back and just a little bit softer all around, his head finally began to settle down again as he glanced towards their guide, who was giving them some privacy but still checking he was alright. 

          “I was getting ready with a new soldier. I looked out the gate and you and Sherlock were up in the audience watching me. I was fighting for your honour, you were my sponsor.” He recapped as much as he could, not sure how else to describe it. It was a very personal moment really, but one that he was sure he’d had plenty of times before and since. “We were married, I was playing with your ring,” 

          “I went to everyone of your fights and races, and was always so proud of you. Granted, I was also scared that every time I wouldn’t come home with you, or that a limb would be missing. I was lucky that that was never the case.” Mycroft let out a relieved chuckle, smiling to him and giving him a soft kiss. “I still have that ring, and always save it, time after time, for when you come back.” Greg smiled fondly as he kept close to Mycroft, glad that the man was close to his side as a few other whispers of memories came to him, but nothing as intense as before. The Colosseum by itself, memories or not, but the ghosts of cheering and looking up from the ground to see the other’s cheering for him, only added to the life that once surrounded the building. Thanking their guide once their tour was done and making a few easy excuses for his episode earlier, Greg sighed heavily once they were alone again. He wove his fingers in with Mycroft’s as they wandered a little more along a few of the stone halls. 

          “I’m always glad to remember something more, but it always hurts. I’d really wish that part would stop.” 

          “You’ve never told me that it hurts, love.” Mycroft’s voice was full of concern as he stopped them, placing both his hands on Greg’s shoulders. “I never would have brought you to places where this could happen if I knew that it was painful for you… maybe I should cancel our plans for tomorrow, I don’t want to cause any unnecessary pain my dear,” Greg shrugged slightly when the other mentioned his headaches, not thinking much of it. 

          “It doesn’t always hurt. It’s odd, it sort of depends on the strength of the memory, if that makes sense. Sometimes it is like a normal memory, no different than remembering something from last week or whatever, but other times… It’s like I am there all over again… living it as though it’s happening then and there. I could feel everything, smell everything... It’s weird.” Greg laughed softly, not knowing how else to describe it, just glad that Mycroft wasn’t looking at him like he was utterly insane. “I don’t want to skip anything out of fear that I might have another headache. They do pass, I do feel better now, I just have to take a moment to sort myself out.” 

          “Are you sure? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable if we can avoid it…” As they exited the building, they headed down the street and over to a small cafe, ready for some lunch. “I can change our plans tomorrow, but if you say that it is fine, we’ll continue with them as they are now…” Reaching out, Mycroft clasped his hands in his, running his thumbs over Greg’s knuckles. “I don’t mind what we do while we are here, as long as I get to spend time with you, that is all that truly matters to me.” 

          “My, I’m sure. I want to see the city like we used to.” Greg promised, squeezing Mycroft’s hand tight in his own before pulling his hands back into his lap as their server came to take their meal. Mycroft ordered for them, in perfect Italian of course, and all he could understand was pizza, so he knew that must be for him. When the meal was brought out, he grinned at the sight of the charcuterie plate along with the small pizza for him, though he could see Mycroft was fighting himself and eyeing it as well. “Silly man, come on. You can have some too, we’re on holiday! You’re allowed a short time off of your diet to celebrate being back home.” Greg gently urged, though he wasn’t going to shame Mycroft if he was going to do his best to stay healthy on their trip as well. “Looks fantastic though, thank you.” 

          “Maybe a bite, but nothing more. We may be on holiday, but if I let you tell me all those excuses you have concocted anytime I eye what you are eating, I would never stay true to my diet.” Mycroft chuckled, taking a small bite that Greg handed him and giving an appreciative groan before moving back to his plate. “Well if you insist, we shall continue with the plan for tomorrow. I’m still not going to tell you what we are doing, as that would ruin the surprise. We still have all afternoon and this evening to do some more sight seeing though, is there anything else you wanted to see tonight?” Greg thought for a moment before nodding, trying to think of what he’d like to see as well that day. 

          “The Forum. I feel like that was far more your area of Rome, and I’ve heard it’s a bit overrun by cats now, which seems very much like you indeed.” He chuckled, always teasing Mycroft for his love of cats. He couldn’t argue on it though, as the other always brought up that they would have driven away the plague had the pope not exterminated them, not to mention the fact that Greg was rather sure he had died from the plague at some point, though he hadn’t remembered anything like that yet. He had been a bit scared to ask Ryan if that was something that came along with remembering everything, experiencing your death over and over again. “Unless that is something we are seeing tomorrow?” Greg fished for hints, giving a smile over to the other. 

           “No, the Forum was not on my list for tomorrow, but we can go there this afternoon if you wish. Like you said, it is a bit overrun, though I’m not sure about the cat part, but it is in ruin now, unfortunately. Anything else you would like to see while we are here?” Greg shrugged as he took Mycroft’s hands and kissed his knuckles, remembering the mention of cats from when he had done his own research on their trip. 

           “I don’t mind the ruins though, I’m sure you remember everything when it was in it’s prime, and now it seems a bit sad, but… I don’t know. I think it has it’s own beauty like this sometimes.” He said softly, definitely thinking there was a difference between being in well maintained ruins and being an overgrown mess that had long since been forgotten about. No doubt there would be parts of their past lives that had been lost to time, but at least Rome seemed to be pretty well preserved. For the most part. “It’ll be fun. I would like to see some of the museums as well if that’s alright?” 

          “That is fine, hopefully this time though, we won’t find anything of ours in them.” Paying the server, Mycroft stood and held out his arm, and Greg happily took it as they set off to find another bus that would lead them to the forum. 

*****

           There were a few times where his heart skipped a beat, and Mycroft swore he could almost hear the voices of his favourite philosophers as they walked the halls of the forum, or what was left of them. Closing his eyes, it was as if he were back there again. They made their way through the ruins, Mycroft stopping every once in awhile to tell a small story or share a memory with Gregory, quickly moving from one to the other. They didn’t spend too long there, just a couple hours and then they were on their way to the museum, which was even more a walk down memory lane. When it started to grown late, they headed back to the domus, Mycroft unlocking the gate again and letting Gregory through, thanking the staff as they took their purchases from the day and stored them away safe. 

           “I’m glad we had today. It was so nice to be back, and to talk with you about all those places. I can’t wait for tomorrow. For now though, I believe the staff has prepared a meal for us, something that I might have mentioned to you the first time we had chips in the bar together, a little over a year ago?” 

           “Could we not talk about how I got myself stupidly drunk and very much put you in a terribly awkward position that night, even if it was when we started being a couple?” Gregory grinned and moved to rest his arms on Mycroft’s shoulders, and he moved to place his hands on the man’s waist. “Even though I can remember being a gladiator as of today, I can’t say that I remember, off the top of my head, what you had mentioned that night. I was well pissed.” 

           “Puntarelle, for starters, is what I said I preferred on a hot day like today, and then abbacchio alla scottadito. Roughly translated, seeing as you couldn’t remember what I told you, I doubt you would remember what they were, is a nice cool salad and roasted lamb.” Mycroft chuckled, moving Gregory to the dining room where the staff had laid out their meal. “Grazie,” He thanked the staff as they moved out, knowing that the rest of the evening now would be just them. Pulling out a chair for Gregory, Mycroft waited as the other took a seat before plating his meal for him and taking his own chair across the corner from the other. Waiting, as always, for Gregory to take the first bite, he smiled when the other nodded his head in approval. “See, it isn’t as bad as you thought. I seem to remember you scrunching up your nose in distaste when I mentioned anchovies, but you seem to like it now,” 

            “Anchovies are just salty sardines, and sardines are fish bait, so I’m allowed to make a face when I’m thinking of eating them on their own, or the only other way I’ve ever seen them, on pizza.” Gregory defending himself with a wave of his fork, and Mycroft couldn’t help but roll his eyes at the other’s half-hearted argument, chuckling when he took another defiant bite of the puntarelle and smiled. 

            “You call me silly quite often, but I think that you might be the odd one of us both,” Mycroft teased, taking a few bites of his food himself and humming as he tasted the flavours he loved so much. 

           “This is all so beautiful, My. You have to take me to our other homes now, once I have enough holiday time saved again.” 

           “Of course, we can go wherever you wish my darling. I’m sure Greece will always be waiting for us when we need a warmer, tropical sort of holiday, and Heidelberg, as you’ve stated before, is always beautiful in the winter.” Mycroft smiled, finishing off the salad and setting it aside so he could stand and plate the main course for them both. “After that though, we might have to come up with a few new locations to visit, and those are the only other countries I still own homes in. Maybe Paris, Nice, Cairo, who knows.” He shrugged, finishing the plating and taking his seat again, waiting for him to try a bite. 

           “That’s delicious, and Greece would be amazing to visit next. I’m not sure if I want to go to Paris again, at least, not for a while longer. Cairo would be fantastic too, but I’d worry about you getting sick from the heat. Are they ever not crazy hot there?” Gregory asked, taking a few more bites of his meal. 

           “Well, when we last went, it was long before the days of air conditioning and easy access to water bottle and the like. I’m sure now it would be far better to travel there as I can easily keep myself from suffering heat stroke again.” Mycroft knew that was what he truly worried about, as that was the one memory he had of them in Egypt together. Granted, with his fair skin, it did make it a bit of a task, but lots of suntan lotion, a good hat, and plenty of water, mixed with a hotel that had air conditioning and he would be able to manage. Taking a few bites of the lamb, Mycroft savoured the way the meat fell apart in his mouth, humming in delight at the taste. “Greece gets rather hot too, but the nice bit is that we are on an island, and the breeze always makes it tolerable. It would be nice to see Oia again, but I think I would also like to show you Athens as well.” 

           “Oia sounds fun. I love the beach, though, I doubt that’s really your sort of thing. We could go for our next anniversary? It’s later in the year, so it probably wouldn’t be too hot.” 

           “That sounds perfect, and I will have you know, that I have been seen sitting on a beach with you before,” Mycroft quipped back, taking a few more bites of his lamb and humming in appreciation. “It’s a date then my dear,” Smiling, they finished the rest of their dinner, sitting and talking long after they had cleared their plates and just enjoying their first night together in Rome. As the night drew on, Mycroft moved from the table, taking the dishes to the kitchen and rinsing them off before placing them in the dishwasher before standing back. “Well my love, it’s late, and we have an early start tomorrow. Not quite as early as we did today, but I think you should get some sleep,” Reaching over, Mycroft wrapped his arms around the man’s waist, pulling him close and kissing lightly along his neck. 

          “You’re making it hard to take you seriously when you’re telling me I need to sleep,” Gregory chuckled, tipping his head back against his shoulder and smiling up at him.

          “Mmm, I haven’t the faintest as to what you are referring to,” Mycroft purred, biting down gently at the base of the man’s neck, his tongue darting out to soothe the flesh. 

           “My silly, handsome, fantastic man. I love you, so very much,” The other murmured as he tried to kiss him, turning around in his arms and sliding his own around Mycroft’s neck. 

           “I love you as well my darling, my light, and my life.” Continuing his work over the other, he slowly walked them out of the kitchen, back through the atrium, and over to their bedroom, backing Gregory into the bed so he fell over with a short gasp. Finding his lips, Mycroft kissed the man passionately while his hands started to undress the other, working the buttons of the man’s shirt as well as the zipper on his jeans. “Gregory, do you know how long it has been since I have had you in this bed?” 

           “Millennia?” The man asked softly, reaching up to work on his suit vest and button down. “My,” He whispered, finally freeing Mycroft of his clothes, and running those rough hands over his chest. “You are so handsome, you know that?” 

           “Very close, maybe even a little more,” Mycroft chuckled, nipping at the man’s skin as it was exposed, loving the noises of pleasure that he was hearing from the other. Looking back to the man below, he placed his hands on either side of Gregory’s face, brushing his thumbs across his cheekbones. “Not as handsome as you my dear,” Smiling, Mycroft dipped down for a slow and passionate kiss, taking his time to taste, tease and explore the other, not looking for heat or dominance, just to feel the other below him. Pulling away, he worked down Gregory’s jaw, over to his ear to nibble, and then down his neck to place small bites along the man’s collarbone. “I know last time you said not so much biting, but I can’t help but nibble every bit of your delicious skin.” 

           “Last time I looked like I had been maimed by a vampire,” Gregory argued with a soft laugh, arching his back into the nips he placed along his skin. “For you, this is the first time in too long, for me it’s the first time ever. While I want to savour this, here, with you, I swear to god the amount of clothes you always have on your body will be the death of me, that and the noises you make when I do this to you,” 

           “God, Gregory,” Arching into his touch, Mycroft was a tad distracted as he tried to finishing undressing, his hands shaking and his body moving towards the other, the task taking far longer than it normally should with the other mouthing at his chest like that. “Yes, well, Vampire, Immortal, the only difference would be that I don’t drink blood and can see the sun.” He joked, continuing to work the other over, feeling his love push at his clothes to rid him of them. When he could toss the shirt aside, Mycroft moved to his trousers, stumbling over the button but finally making work of it and pulling them down hastily. It wasn’t short after that he let out a gasp as the other flipped their positions, crouching over top of him as he straddled his hips and slid his arms to pin them above his head. 

           “I love you,” Gregory breathed between kisses, Mycroft rocking his hips up against the other. The man was gone for only a second to find the lube they had stashed away. “Come here and let me take care of you as I always have, as I always will. I love you so much.” 

           “I love you too, darling,” He purred, watching as the other found the supplies and returned to his side, kissing him slowly before leaning in and trailing his hot breath over his neck to his ear. “Yes, please, my love, my light, my life,” Mycroft whimpered, bucking his hips as the other worked his way down, trailing kisses and bites over his neck, collarbones, chest, stomach and finally, near where he desired it most. Sitting up on his elbows, he looked down to where Gregory now sat between his legs, a smile on those lips and a devious light in his eyes. A deep moan ripped through his chest as he felt the heat of the man’s mouth on his aching cock, his breath catching in his throat and his cheeks turning a deep shade of scarlet as he looked to Gregory through heavy lids. “God Gregory,” Mycroft collapsed back onto the bed, arching into the other’s mouth, another whimper leaving his lips as he felt a finger or two press into him. He wanted more, loving the feeling of it all as his eyes rolled back and his jaw went slack, his heart fluttered as memories came back to him of the many nights they had together in this home. It was almost as if he were still just a young man again, he with his young lover, after having just come back from Egypt. “Amor meus, mihi te volo. Accipe mihi sum.”  _ Please, my love, I need you, I want you. Take me, I’m yours.  _ The words came out in Latin, not intentionally, but from a mixture of reality and memories, both worlds coming together for a moment. 

           “Breathe, My, you have me,” Mycroft whimpered as the other pulled off his cock, shuffling on the bed and then he could feel the head of the other pressing against his entrance. 

           “Sì, il mio amore, la mia luce, la mia vita.”  _ Yes, my love, my light, my life.  _ It was like his mind was on shuffle, moving through the different languages that he spoke. There was something about being home in Rome, being in their home together, that brought back more memories of their past than he had thought about in a long time. Moaning, he felt the other press into him, trying to take deep breaths as his eyes fluttered, looking and searching for the other and smiling when he was met with those deep, chocolate eyes. “Reste avec moi, cher. Ne me quittes jamais.”  _ Stay with me dear. Never leave me.  _

           “I don’t know a single word you are saying, well, except the French, but I don’t want you to stop,” Gregory admitted, nuzzling into Mycroft’s neck and leaving a few marks just where the collar would cover. Whimpering, Mycroft shifted his hips, wanting the other to hit that sweet spot, knowing he was so close. Wrapping his legs and arms around the other, he dragged his nails over the man’s back as he sucked a mark into his neck, his breath catching in his throat as Gregory dragged moan after moan from him. 

           “Yes, love, please, mio amore, mon amour, amica mea, min kärlek, αγάπη μου!” The words poured from his lips in multiple tongues, Italian, French, Latin, Swedish and even Greek, he couldn’t stop. It wasn’t until Gregory had shifted ever so slightly and brushed against that sweet, sweet spot of his that he was cut off, screaming in pleasure as his back arched up and his vision went white. Every thrust was against his prostate, sending him further and further into pure bliss as the pleasure built, coiling hot and sweet in his stomach, threatening to pour over. “Love, please, I’m not going to last, please,” He begged, holding tighter to the man above him and burying his face in his neck. 

           “Then let go, I have you My,” A few more brushes and those words from Gregory and he was lost. A cry was pulled from his lips as his world shattered around him, the pleasure crashing over him harder than it had before, almost as if it were their first time in the house once again. “

            “God, Gregory, yes!” Mycroft held tight, his muscles clamping down and pulling a release from the other, feeling him spill his hot seed inside of him, filling him up and feeling complete. After a few moments, Gregory pulled out and lay next to him, still close with his arms around his waist, Mycroft pressing his nose into the crick on the man’s neck as he panted, skin on fire with a sheen of sweat covering it. “I love you,” He whispered, over and over again, between small kisses to the man’s skin. 

           “I love you too, and I always will, for as long as you’ll have me, and as long as I’m able to have you.” Pulling back enough, Mycroft smiled softly as he looked to those eyes, giving the man a small squeeze. 

           “I’m yours until my dying day,” Leaning in, he placed a gentle kiss on Gregory’s cheek before settling back, his chin on the man’s shoulder. “There has never been anyone else, I have never had eyes for another person, not ever. When I met you, all those years ago, in front of the Pantheon, I knew then I was lost to you by the end of our first conversation. I had never met someone I was so taken with before, and granted, I was only in my thirties then, but for the time, I was considered way past my prime for marrying. Most were married and had children by their early twenties.” 

           “Well, I still think you’re in your prime, and that’s all that really matters, hm?” Gregory asked with a fond smile, brushing a hand over his hair and cheek and pulling him in for another slow and sweet kiss. “Let’s get some sleep yeah? I’m excited about the day you have planned for us tomorrow.” Humming into the kiss, Mycroft nodded, already on the brink of falling asleep as it were. If there was one thing that was guaranteed to have him sleep, it was a good toss with Gregory, always feeling satisfied, happy, and sleepy by the end of it all. Slipping under the covers, Mycroft cuddled up next to the other, saying good night and slowly drifting off. 

 


	19. XVIII

           The next morning they slept in, the sun slowly peeking through the door from the atrium and the sound of birds and the lull of foot traffic outside the home greeting them. Groaning, Mycroft stretched as he opened his eyes, looking over to the sleeping man next to him. If he left him like this Gregory would sleep until noon, but they had plans. At least he could allow him a little longer and get a good breakfast going for them. Slowly slipping out of bed, careful not to wake the other, Mycroft grabbed his dressing gown and moved towards the kitchen, getting started on an easy meal. Out of all the skills he had mastered, the many hobbies and practices he had taken up, for some reason cooking was never one of those he was able to improve upon. Swearing when the toast came out black again, he tossed the bread and looked at the machine, a scowl on his face. Mycroft was about to place another slice in the blasted thing when he heard a chuckle come from the archway behind him. 

            “Morning… don’t feel bad, every toaster has a mind of its own.” Mycroft growled and turned the dial down again, pushing the lever and hoping this time he would have toast instead of slightly warm bread or charcoal. 

            “Good morning dear. This confounded thing seems to have bested me yet again.” He heard the other laugh again, moving closer to him and kissing his temple before moving to get coffee started. 

            “It could be a loose connection. I usually just hit it when it starts acting up like that. I love percussive maintenance. Even if it doesn’t work, it makes me feel better. How long have you been awake?” 

            “Not very long, maybe a half hour at the most. I wanted to surprise you with breakfast, but unlike back home, I don’t have Anthea or Ryan to guide me now,” Mycroft pouted, grabbing the dishes and helping Gregory plate the food before taking it to the dining room, along with orange juice and silverware. “I didn’t want to wake you just yet either, you always need your sleep. We have another busy day ahead of us, and I can’t tell you much without ruining the surprise. All I can say is that today, we will be stepping back to the year 27 B.C.E when Marcus Agrippa had come to Rome to dedicate the Pantheon.” Smiling, Mycroft waited for Gregory to eat first before tucking into his meal, smiling as he watched the other try to guess as to what they could be doing. “No amount of guessing will have me tell you my dear, just, I hope you like it.” 

            “Of course I’ll like it My, how could I not?” Shrugging, Mycroft didn’t want to say any more, too excited that he feared he would spill more about it. He planned to bring Gregory to the spot where they first met, to recreate their first moments, conversation and then, to take them on their first date again. They had gone to the newest bath house in Rome, which in those days was a leisure activity for the wealthy, and lucky for them, the bath house was still standing. There were a few rooms that still allowed you to bathe as you would have in Rome, completely nude, but most of the baths required swim attire nowadays. Back then, when he was young and rather fit, he never minded going to the bath house. Now though, he was grateful for the dress code as he was a tad self conscious about the weight he tried so hard to keep off. Finishing their breakfast, Mycroft cleaned up, putting the dishes in the wash and moving towards the bedroom, wanting to get dressed so they could get started. “I did enjoy wearing the robes for our own set of pictures, but I hope you let me wear my normal clothes for our day in the past or we will definitely pull more than a few odd stares out in public.” Chuckling, Mycroft smiled as the other peppered kisses along his back. Moving to grab an outfit from the dresser, he started to figure out what he wanted to wear. 

            “As much as I would love to see you in that outfit all day, I’m afraid they are rather fragile and it was best to only wear them that once for photos. I need to send them back so they can be put in storage once more.” He smiled, buttoning up his shirt and pulling on his trousers, forgoing his vest and jacket and rolling up his sleeves. Sitting on the bed, he pulled on his socks before slipping on a pair of more comfortable shoes, lacing them up before standing once again and looking over to Gregory. “Will you grab a few water bottles for us my dear?” Mycroft questioned, wanting the other out of the room so he could grab their swim trunks and place them in the messenger bag he intended to carry. When the other left, he quickly packed them away and met the other in the kitchen, sliding the bottles in and heading towards the front gate. 

           “So, are we taking the bus again?” Gregory asked as they stepped out into the sidewalk, Mycroft closing the gate behind them before linking his arm with the other. 

           “Yes, the Pantheon is quite a distance and it would take us too long to walk there,” Mycroft smiled, making their way along the street. 

           “How many lives have we had here in Rome? It’s an odd thing to technically be a bit of a world traveler when at the same time, this is the furthest I have ever been from home. Slowly getting more used to it though,” 

           “Well, we have technically lived in Rome three times total. First when we met, second after we came back from Pompeii, and third was in 642 I believe.” Mycroft tried to think back, struggling as the dates started to blur together. “Though we have lived in other parts of Italy as well. Pompeii, as I stated, was our home until you took up with the Roman army and we moved back here, just in time I might add as we left only months before Vesuvius claimed all those lives…” Mycroft paused, remembering the relief he had felt at the news, as well as the pain and devastation from losing friends they had grown close to. “We also lived in Venice twice, beautiful city really, though, I don’t like to think too much of it. I lost you too soon to the Black Plague the second time and I haven’t been back since. You were gone for so long afterwards I was afraid I would never see you again.” It still haunted him to this day, and he hadn’t really shared that information with others, but he never wanted to keep a secret from Gregory. 

            “Hey, don’t worry about any of that right now My, today is about Rome and us,” Gregory redirected his thoughts, rubbing his thumb along Mycroft’s cheek and smiling. “Come on, I really want to see the Pantheon. I have always been fascinated by its architecture and I can’t wait to see inside of it.” Nodding, Mycroft spoke with the driver before taking a seat next to Gregory, watching the familiar town pass by. There would be a crowd today as it was the anniversary of the building, and he hoped that while the other was a tad distracted, he could slip off for a few seconds. Mycroft wanted to give the other that same moment of seeing him through the crowd this time. Even though a young Sherlock would be missing from the scene, he was still hoping it would spark some small memories. Thanking the driver, they stepped off onto the curb and walked a little further, the hum of the crowd pervading the air as they got closer to the building. Slowing his pace, Mycroft got Gregory talking about the sights and slowly slipped away, making the sure the other didn’t even realise he was gone till he was a safe distance away. He watched as the other looked around, but when the speaker came over the microphone, Gregory’s attention was drawn away from looking around, which gave him the perfect opportunity to sneak back. 

*****

            Following Mycroft towards the Pantheon, Greg got more and more excited the closer they got, telling the man what he knew about the architectural history since he was sure that the other already knew all the social history. After a moment he turned to look at Mycroft, only to find him gone. 

            “My, dammit.” Greg muttered under his breath, trying not to panic too much over the fact that he didn’t speak the language, trying to remind himself that he was still in the tourist area and therefore would probably be alright. His attention was drawn to the large building in front as someone began to speak, and his head was swimming with deja vu, though at least Greg was mentally prepared for the headaches as Mycroft’s entire plan for the day was to recreate their past. 

            “Excuse me sir, but thank you for finding my younger brother. He sure is a handful and escaped my grasp.” Greg was proud of himself for not jumping when Mycroft reappeared behind him, speaking low in his ear. “Thank you again… I’m sorry, what is your name sir?” 

            “Greg… Gregori. Sherlock asked me to help find you. He was just a kid then,” Greg murmured, little whispers of memories floating around him but blessedly nothing as strong as the day before. “I thought your names were fascinating.” He said after a beat, turning around this time to actually smile up at Mycroft, taking his hand in his so he couldn’t slip off again. “Your hair was curly then too.” 

            “Yes, thank you for being above the rumours. Everyone tends to say such dreadful things about us, what with our ‘fascinating’ names and all.” Mycroft smiled, looking down to him with a soft look of love. “Are you here for the Pantheon? Would you like to join me?” Greg laughed softly as Mycroft continued on with memories of that day, rubbing his thumb over the man’s hand as he found himself swallowed wholly by the taller man and their memories. “You know, I’ve had such a good time, I can honestly say that I don’t want to leave just yet. I don’t do this, in fact I have never done this, but would you mind if I saw you again?” At the question of meeting again, Greg could only grin at the other before leaning up to press a quick kiss to his lips. 

            “I would like that very much,” He murmured, glancing around as others began to move around them and into the Pantheon, now that they had actually opened it for the day. “Do you want to go in? I know it’s changed a lot since becoming a Christian church, but the layout’s still mostly the same. I’d love to see it again with you.” 

            “I’m sure it has changed quite a bit, but our first time meeting wouldn’t be complete without going in. Sherlock begged once the speech was done to go inside, and of course, you enthusiastically agreed, taking his hand and then mine before walking in there.” Greg laughed again when Mycroft mentioned that he had first gone in with Sherlock’s hand in his, thinking of the man he knew now, who would probably find a way to die before he willingly took Greg’s hand again to be lead around like a child. Mycroft handed him a bottle of water and he took a few sips, thanking the other as they put it back, knowing that they didn’t want a repeat of yesterday’s events. Looking around the building as they walked in, Greg found himself taking advantage of Mycroft’s distraction with his own memories to watch him, his expression relaxed unlike he normally was out in public. It always made him happy to see the man free from his normal concerns with work, usually only seeing Mycroft like this at home. It was nice. 

            “It’s huge in here, bigger than I expected.” 

            “It was quite the marvel at the time, and in Rome, everything always had to be the biggest and the best. I would explain to you the marvel of the coffered ceiling, which was extremely innovative at the time, but you’ve already done your history from what I heard when you were talking about the architecture.” Mycroft chuckled, looking to him with a soft smile. “Only downfall is the hole in the ceiling, made it rather difficult when it rained,” Greg grinned when Mycroft joked about his love for history, looking up at the skylight and squeezing the man’s hand before following him along again. 

           “You say that it’s a problem, but your home has a massive open garden right in the middle,” He teased as they continued on, Greg finding the new religious sculptures that lined the walls gorgeous and summing up what Rome was now in a single building. 

           “Shall we grab a quick bite to eat before we go on our first date my dear?” Looking over at Mycroft with the offer to get something to eat and go on a date, Greg nodded happily as he linked their arms together and allowed himself to be lead out onto the streets again. 

           “I know you are on a diet and all, but I’m telling you right now, we’re getting gelato at some point,” 

           “Twist my arm Gregory, but if I must, then I will share with you,” They walked towards a small restaurant and ordered and ate, talking more about the buildings in Rome, what had changed, and what to do for the rest of the week. Greg was quickly falling in love with Italian food even more than he already had, getting to enjoy the real things and not just pasta, pizza and fried things. Savouring the delicious fish they were sharing between them, their conversation shifted back to their first date. “So my dear, I had asked you if I could see you again, and with a very endearing smile and bright eyes, you agreed. I hadn’t expected you to come calling at my door that afternoon, but I couldn’t complain either. You were very kind and courteous, and my father approved right away. I hadn’t the faintest where you were taking me, but it didn’t matter, so long as I could spend just a little more time in your company. Now, it’s okay if you don’t remember, because it will the surprise all the more entertaining and special, but do you know where we had our first date that evening?” 

           “So you’re saying I’ve been a hopeless romantic since the start of time?” Greg laughed, trying to think back on that day so long ago. “I haven’t an idea,” He smiled after a minute, thanking the waiter as they dropped off the bill. “Do I get a hint about what we are about to do?” Mycroft smiled as the other talked about being a romantic, shaking his head and looking up to him. 

           “Yes, you have always had a big heart, and you are cheesy and a hopeless romantic.” He slipped his card into the servers folder and thanked them as they walked away to close out their check. “The only thing I will tell you is that you are lucky that things have become more modest now, because if it were like our first date, you wouldn’t need to change into your swim trunks before hand,” Mycroft loved the way Gregory’s eyes widened and a blush spread across his cheeks. 

           “I…” He could practically see the wheels turning, wondering if the other would remember his comment all those weeks ago, when he mentioned visiting the bath house. When his card was returned, Mycroft moved to stand, holding out his arm to the other and smiling, seeing that he was still trying to work it out. 

           “Shall we? It will be open in about twenty minutes, which gives us plenty of time to arrive and change.” 

           “A bath house, you’re taking me to a bath house. I guess it’s really no different than when we met up at the pub the first time. If you really want to call that a date.” 

           “I would beg to differ, seeing as I got to see you completely naked the same day that I had met you,” Mycroft’s brow furrowed as he looked to the other, not sure how he was coming up with that comparison. When the doors opened, Mycroft took care of the entry and moved back to Gregory’s side, ushering him towards the changing rooms that used to be a few of the private bathhouses the wealthy would rent. “Now, we just change, leave our clothes in one of the lockers, and we can pick from any of the rooms. As much as I would prefer to be in the one we shared, that is not a room that caters to those who do not wish to wear their swim suits. When I was young and in Rome, I wouldn’t have minded as nudity wasn’t as big of a deal then. Now, I would rather not if that is alright with you my dear,” Mycroft blushed a little, stepping behind the changing wall, away from prying eyes as he stripped down and quickly tugged on his swim shorts.  

           “Well, weren’t bathhouses the main place men gathered to talk and socialise?” Gregory pointed out, following him to the changing room and starting to strip down his clothes, following Mycroft behind the wall, out of the main room so others couldn’t see them. “Perhaps one night while we’re here and home alone, we can have our own little reenactment in the pool?” Gregory said low at his side, running his hand along his back. “Come on, outside of visiting Bath a few times, I’ve never been in a real Roman bath.” Leaning into the other’s touch, Mycroft’s breath hitched as the other continued to run his hand over his skin, those words hot and heavy at his ear. If they weren’t in public, he would shove the man against the nearest surface and snog him senseless, but unfortunately, they were. 

           “Yes, well, I would love for that to happen tonight, even if we didn’t actually ‘know’ each other in that sense till at least a couple weeks later. You were always a gentleman,” Mycroft let out a soft huff as he looked to the other through heavy lids, his cheeks now a deep shade of red as he pressed up against the other. Groaning when the other mentioned moving, he sighed when Gregory walked away, heading towards the other rooms. Following along, his mind was still reeling as he waited for the other to choose a bath and slip in, settling into the warm water. Taking a seat next to him, Mycroft kept his arms below the water, well, really a lot of him below the water, still a tad conscious about being exposed in front of others. Not everyone could have the confidence his loving partner did, spread wide in the pool, his arms behind him on the edge of the bath. Closing his eyes, Mycroft let the feeling wash over him, remembering their first date in the pool, how bashful he had been to see Gregory naked, as if it were something very intimate and private, instead of a normal activity for Roman men. It wasn’t until he heard the soft chattering of a few other tenants in the bath, speaking softly in Italian, and commenting on the looks of his partner that he opened his eyes. There was a spike of jealousy as he heard them, his eyes opening and scanning the room to see the two men across the bath looking at his partner with interest. 

*****

           Greg was a little sad when he didn’t immediately come up with sort of memories as he had in other places, but he decided not to feel too bad or stressed about it seeing as he was still very much enjoying himself. Dipping down under the water for a moment, Greg settled himself against the wall, staying in place as he relaxed and studied the walls and mosaics that showed old pictures of Rome. He had been ignoring the others in the room until Mycroft perked up and looking rather irritated. 

           “What’s wrong?” He asked softly, glancing over at the two but not seeing anything that stood out to him. Unhooking his arms from the pool side, he slid closer to Mycroft, concerned that something was not right. “Did I do something I’m not supposed to here?” 

           “No,” Mycroft practically growled under his breath as he still glared across the pool at the two men. “Those two men over there are talking about you, making lewd comments, and trying to place bets on which of them can take you home tonight,” 

           “Mycroft, breathe, please,” Greg murmured, sinking down in the water to be equal to his partner and taking the man’s hips in his hands to hold him still. “Ignore them, yeah? They can make all the bets they want, but you’re the only one taking me home tonight. They’re not a threat to you. Hell, I don’t even understand what they’re saying,” He joked softly, looking over his shoulder to make sure they were both watching him before turning back and kissing Mycroft slowly. He wanted to make it as obvious as possible that he was  _ very  _ much taken by his boyfriend and wasn’t going to be going anywhere with either of them. “I love you, and I always will. You don’t have to worry, okay?” 

           “I don’t worry about you, dear, I know you are loyal and wouldn’t think of leaving with them. I can’t stand it that they are talking about you like that, like you are some toy to be won, and the thought of them thinking of you in that way, imagining you…” Mycroft trailed off, his stare growing harder and a frown creasing his features. “You deserve better,” Greg sighed, even though he could feel Mycroft continue to fight against him, shaking his head when he argued that he deserved better. 

           “I love you, My. Now stop this,” He said softly, continuing to try and distract the man from the others around him. Then again, he was sure it probably helped that he didn’t understand the words being spoken about him. “Just… focus on me, okay? Please, this day is about us, tell me more about it.” Greg urged him softly, trying to come up with something that could settle that anger and turn it back around. “Come on, do you want to go to another bath?” The other seemed to settle a tad, turning to face him, his features softening. 

           “You brought me here, and I was a bundle of nerves. I have always been a bit self concious of my body, but you were so kind and patient. I’m sure I was a bright shade of scarlet throughout our entire date, but you never mentioned it once, or drew too much attention to me. It was a bit silly as I had been naked in front of plenty of men before, as most Romans had at the bathhouse, but it was different with you.” Mycroft smiled, looking to Greg as he sat closer, leaning in and placing a soft, chaste kiss on his lips. “You had eyes for no one else. You sat and talked with me, showering me with attention and were a complete gentlemen. At the end of the night, you walked me home and placed a soft kiss on my cheek. I was smitten when I first met you. You had me wrapped around your finger by the end of the night.” Greg relaxed, smiling as well as Mycroft told him how their date had gone that day. He still thought it was amusing that he brought Mycroft to a bathhouse, but it was different then. 

            “You’ve always drawn all my attention to you, even now, when I first met you, our lunches were an escape from everything, and I’d only remember work when you told me the time.” Greg murmured, giving another light kiss to Mycroft’s lips, content to ignore the other men who were still trying to catch their attention. “Something tells me I was just as wrapped around your finger by the end of it as well.” 

           “Mmm, quite possibly. I think I was too head over heels with you to notice. My head was reeling, just wondering when the next time would be that you’d come knocking at my door.” Mycroft played coy, looking down before coming back up with another kiss. Greg happily obliged, purring into the other’s touch and then he was being pulled into a tight embrace, the other peppering kisses over his jaw. He shivered and only just bit back a moan when Mycroft tugged at his ear, never quite understanding how that could be such a turn on. “I can’t wait for our private bath my love. I don’t usually put out on the first date, but I might make an exception for you.” Laughing softly, Greg took a moment to will his body back under control, which was a bit easier said than done, but he wasn’t about to continue their little show in front of the men that were now clearly annoyed they wouldn’t be having him. 

           “Now I’m curious to know of each of our first meetings, if any were like this one,” Greg said with a soft laugh, settling beside Mycroft and looping an arm around the man’s shoulders to hold him close. 

           “Well, not even our first meeting was like this. I am not usually so bold, but I am very possessive, if you hadn’t noticed by now.” Mycroft quipped, grinning and letting out a soft laugh. “You would think after centuries, I would be very confident and not succumb to childish displays of jealousy, but I find that as time draws on, I become more and more attached and I dislike the idea of anyone else thinking of you in such a manner.” Mycroft moved his hand to lay on Greg’s thigh, the other squeezing him lightly before looking back at him. “As much as I have enjoyed our hour here, I am ready to go home and have my own private show with dinner, if that is alright with my cabana boy,” 

            “Cabana boy?” Greg challenged, leveling as much of a glare as he could pull off while trying to ignore Mycroft’s hand that was wandering along his leg now. He purposefully didn’t mention anything about not needing to worry about anyone ever having him again, since he was the one who had been married this time around when they met, but he was trying to get that sorted out. “Do you expect me to bring you a fruity drink with a little umbrella in the it then? Because I have to say I now very much want to get a picture of you drinking a mai tai,” 

           “You know that I don’t drink anything other and whiskey or wine, love.” Greg laughed softly when Mycroft argued against the thought of having a mai tai, and while they had talked before about their little argument becoming too personal from time to time, these sorts of teasing pokes at one another were something that he never wanted to have stop. Finally getting himself dressed after getting distracted a few times by Mycroft’s glances and stares, Greg shook his head in amusement when the other made a pass at him as they left. “If we don’t get home soon, I might be half tempted to take you down a back ally.”

           “I’d rather not have to have a tetanus shot after having a quickly with you, if you don’t mind.” 

           “Oh find, take away all of the fun,” Mycroft gave a playful pout, and Greg couldn’t help but chuckle and give him an odd look. This side of Mycroft was not one that he saw often, and it was a bit strange to him still. “Besides the two men who tried to ruin the bath house, I have had an exceptionally lovely day. Thank you for everything. Thank you for coming, for being here with me, for indulging me on this fantasty tour, for the toga’s yesterday… for all of it.” 

           “You don’t have to thank me love, it’s been fun. I’ve had a blast too, random guys making eyes at me be damned. It’s nice to be back here, though it is a bit odd to have a constant feeling of deja vu, but it’s not a bad thing. I have you to make it all better, and to make sense of it all.” He said with a fond smile, leaning up to kiss the underside of Mycroft’s jaw. “I can’t wait to remember everything with you, and to make more new memories too.” 

           “Soon love, I have a very good feeling this will be our last time, and I don’t ever say that. Even Anthea has made mention of it a couple of time.” When they reached the domus, Mycroft pulled the cord to get off the bus and they thanked the driver as they left, walking towards the gate and heading in when Mycroft unlocked it. “Now, about those new memories, shall we make some more tonight?” Greg moaned low as he found himself pressed against the stone wall, just out of the view of the world. 

           “Mycroft,” He murmured, testing the man’s grip against his wrists that were now pinned above his head. “Christ, My,” Greg hissed, feeling the man’s teeth tugging lightly along the sensitive skin of his neck, his knees going weak beneath him. Reaching out, he tried to catch the other’s mouth with his own, whining when the other stayed just out of reach. “Bastard. Bloody cheating, come here would you?” 

           “It’s not cheating just because you are not getting your way love, it just means that you will have to be patient as always. I wish I could say that we could revisit the first place I ever let you take me, but then we might get charged with public indecency… you were so young, handsome, and polite, but once I had given you the okay, I had never seen you change so quickly. Rough hands, practically tearing off my toga, pressing bruises into my hips, claiming me, but all the while, you were still mindful and sweet,” 

            “Good thing for me you like it rough,” Greg laughed softly, curious now as to where their first time had been, but too distracted by Mycroft’ mouth wandering along his skin to ask questions. The ghosts of memories were hardly useful either, as Greg was unable to tell where his daydreams of the two of them dressed in their robes the day before started and his current memories ended from those long ago. He felt far more in this reality though, as Mycroft claimed his mouth once more and Greg found himself quite content for the moment with that, not wanting to become lost and drift off on his lover when he was so focused on dragging this out. “My,” The detective moaned as their kiss broke off again, Greg trying once more to break Mycroft’ grasp, only for them to be brought down to his shoulders and pinned again. “You shouldn’t be allowed to use your strength like this against me. You must of had a field day when cuffs really came out for popular use. Can’t imagine what sort of trouble that would have caused if one of us had a pair our true first time.” 

             “Love, I’ve never been the strong one of us, as I’m sure you have seen and can tell. I just think you like being dominated every once in awhile,” Mycroft challenged, rolling his hips again. 

             “I’m going to kill you,” Greg moaned as he was teased and taunted to the point that he was aching, knowing that Mycroft was having a blast doing everything he could to play along with him until he simply couldn’t take it anymore. “My, please, I need you. Please, stop…” He whined softly, looking up at Mycroft as he stood to his full height and smirked down at him. “Please, just take me to bed, let me have you in me. I want you so much,” Greg begged low, still trying to fight against Mycroft’s hold, but having a bit more leeway now that there was only one hand holding him back. “I want to feel you.” 

            “Funny my dear, it would seem that our roles are reversed. When you first brought me to your domus, your parents were gone for the night, and I felt like the inexperienced bird you rook under your wing. You teased me till I was begging, but yet, you took it slow and were the perfect gentleman, rather soft and sweet. Now it would seem that I am the one teasing you, and I’m going to take you.” Greg laughed softly as Mycroft told him more about their first night together, and while he wished he could remember more, he couldn’t. It was still Mycroft, still the two of them together, and they were here, now, kissing and running their hands over each other. 

           “You know I like being dominated now and again, it’s certainly not a secret,” Greg murmured as he allowed himself to be lead along, looking up at the sky as they walked through the atrium, already thinking of dragging a mattress out for something a little different. As they entered their bedroom, Greg shrugged off his shirt and tossed it to the side, along with his shoes before coming up behind Mycroft and lazily undoing his shirt buttons while kissing over his shoulders. “I love you, so very much. I love having you beside me.” 

            “I love you as well Gregory, more than I will ever be able to show you.” Greg grinned up at Mycroft, leaning into his touch as the other traced his thumbs over his cheekbones. “You are the most brilliant man I have ever known. So kind, sweet, caring and gentle, and very intelligent and clever. I’m not sure what you saw in me all those centuries ago, but I can’t help but thank the gods that you did come knocking on my door that evening. I don’t think I could imagine my life with anyone else.” 

             “I don’t think I could ever imagine something that wouldn’t draw me to you. I felt such a pull towards you since the first moment I met you, never mind the feeling that I had known you from before.” He said softly, wrapping his arms around Mycroft’s back and trailing his fingers over his hips before pulling him to the bed, laying out on the mattress and smirking up at the other watching him as well. “You always tell me how I’m so very much to you, but you are all that and more for me as well.” 

             “Mmm, yes, well besides your charming personality and sense of humour, I can’t say enough that this body of yours is downright sinful. Tanned skin that goes on and on, not to mention how fit you are and how those muscles move below that delicious skin of yours… Your silver hair that I just love to run my fingers through and that damned crooked smile of yours, it will always be my undoing.” Greg laughed again, shaking his head as he ran his fingers over Mycroft’s chest. “I could spend hours just devouring your perfect body and enjoying myself, but you always get so antsy and demanding,” 

             “You always talk as though you’re nothing. Your power, your stance, the way you can automatically tell everything about everyone yet you still do good instead of taking everyone apart… Everything you do, you’re just… amazing.” He murmured, leaning up on his elbows as well to kiss along his jaw while running his hand up to the man’s hair. “I love you. Your freckles, your little smirk, the way you watch over those you care about , even though you’ll never admit to it. Everything, absolutely everything.” Greg whispered, kissing Mycroft’s nose with another grin. “And the face you make when I do that.” Mycroft finished stripping himself of his clothes before he lay back down on top of him. 

            “God, Gregory,” Mycroft groaned, pressing his forehead to his as he bucked his hips. Sighing as their bodies rubbed together, he spread his knees so they could fit together as they had been made to do so, praying just like Mycroft always did, that this would be his last time as well since he couldn’t imagine anything being better. They were the perfect height, perfect shape, everything for one another.

            “My,” He murmured softly in return, one hand running along each bump along Mycroft’s spine. The other worked on his shirt and made quick work of his trousers, the two of them now laying completely naked together. The other slowly made his way down, lifting his legs slightly while his lover got the lube out for them. Shivering, he watched and felt as Mycroft teased along his most sensitive spots of skin. 

            “I can tell you want this love, how badly you want me to feel me inside of you.” 

            “I always do My, If I could have you in bed all day and night I would.” Greg shivered and moaned under Mycroft’s touches, knowing exactly what to do to get him just the way he wanted. Gasping and rocking against his hand when Mycroft moved it just so. Greg huffed a faint laugh as he forced his hands to relax their hold against the sheets under them. 

            “Tell me Gregory, tell me what you want,” 

            “I want you, I want your cock sliding slowly and so thoroughly through me. I want to feel your pulse and your skin and your sweat and your breath against mine. I want you.” He gasped, trying to keep himself propped up to look at Mycroft but every time the man would so expertly twist his wrist around the head of his cock. “Christ My, you’re going to make me finish now if you’re not careful.” 

             “If I’m not careful? What if that was my intention, just so I could have you longer tonight?” Greg gasped as Mycroft continued to tease him so perfectly, his body wanting to come right then and there, but the man’s hand around his cock kept him from being able to. “Tell me love, should I have you come just now and tease you even further? Or will you beg oh so nicely to have me take you?” 

             “Christ, fucking…” he breathed, twitching at the nips along his thighs that only made everything that much better and worse at the same time. No matter how many times they were together Mycroft’s skill still caught Greg off guard from how proper he usually presented himself, and nothing like the dirty bastard he could be in private. “God, please, My, anything. Please. I need you. Fuck me. Please,” He begged, barely aware of the words tumbling from his mouth as he held tight to the bed below them while pressing down against Mycroft’s hand. “I need you, so much.” 

             “Like music to my ears,” Greg moaned as Mycroft pulled his fingers our and finally took him, his body tensing and relaxing at the same time at the relief of finally getting what he wanted. “Così bello.”  _ So handsome. _

             “Mycroft,” He breathed, wrapping his legs around the man’s waist to keep him close, leaning into the gentle touch along his cheek as they began to rock against one another. For all their teasing and playing, sometimes it was the gentleness behind Mycroft’s power that was the hottest thing he could offer.

             “Tuus sum. Corpus cor meum et animam meam.”  _ I am yours. My body, my heart, my soul and my life.  _

             “I love you, I love you always.” Greg breathed as Mycroft whispered those words back to him, a ghost of a memory of what they meant flickering through his mind as he looked back up at his lover above him. “My body, my heart, my soul, my life is yours.” 

             “Deus Gregori sentis bonus,”  _ God, Gregory, you feel so good.  _ Cursing as Mycroft picked up his speed and changed his angle just a bit to hit that perfect spot deep inside. Greg wrapped his arms around the man’s shoulders as he ran his fingers through Mycroft’s hair, holding him close. 

             “Christ My, I can’t… yes, just like that, I’m gonna come,” He moaned, his back arching into his lover’s thrust as they devolved into chasing after their own pleasure. Before long, though shorter than Greg was hoping for, he could feel his muscles beginning to tighten as the pool of heat in his stomach began to grow, telling him he was about to finish any minute now. “Come with me, My, Mycroft, please,” Greg gasped, only a few more thrusts into him before he was crying out as he came in stripes across his stomach nearly untouched. 

              “Ita, amor est finis me.”  _ Yes love, finish for me.  _ Mycroft bit down on his shoulder, not as hard as normal, but enough to add to the pleasure. “Dei, quod sic, Gregori, caritatem, sic!”  _ Gods, yes, Gregory, love yes!  _ Greg just held on as the other filled him, his body stalling as Mycroft panted above them. 

              “Latin sounds good from you,” He finally said with a grin, lulling his head to the side with an even more lopsided grin than normal as he watched his lover fall to the side. “I love you, so very much. I’m so glad that I’m here with you, not only here in Rome, but just… here. With you. Now. You’re amazing.” 

              “You are very… loose with the compliments when you’ve had an orgasm Gregory, not that I am complaining or saying that it is a bad thing, because it most definitely is not, but it makes me smile.” Greg carefully shifted over to curl into Mycroft’s chest, wrapping an arm tight around his stomach with a soft hum. “I am glad you are here as well, not just in Rome, but with me in this life. I will never grow tired of having you at my side.” 

              “I’m happy, so happy to be here with you.” He chuckled, realising he was babbling a bit before he simply shut his mouth and peppered Mycroft’s shoulder with little kisses until he had half crawled across the other’s chest to sprawl over him with a dopey smile. “So, what’s the plan for tomorrow? Continue to stay lazy with each other here, or go out into the city again?” 

              “We can do anything darling. There’s a garden that I think you would like. We could spend some time there. It’s called Tivoli, and it’s not too far. We could possibly do a picnic, and then later figure out what we want to do in the evening?” Mycroft smiled, running his hands through Greg’s hair. 

               “Sounds fantastic,” Greg hummed, shuffling to rest his chin lightly on Mycroft’s chest and grinning up at him. He felt like a teen that was utterly lovestruck with his boyfriend, but he didn’t care. It was fun, and he was a grown adult who knew what he was doing. Mostly, sort of… and they had been together for a year now, so he was allowed to be like that at the moment. “We could easily do a picnic, get some cheeses and breads and such to have there. I think I saw a mention of Tivoli in one of the travel pamphlets, I remember it looked gorgeous.” He agreed, his eyes drifting shut as Mycroft brushed his fingers through his hair as well. “It’ll be nice to have a lazy day around here.” 

              “A lazy day it is then,” Mycroft hummed, slowly drifting to sleep. “Come now, time for bed,” Greg got back in place and settled under the covers. “Good night my love,” The last thing he felt was Mycroft running his hands through his hair and a kiss on the forehead. 


	20. XIX

          Greg slept heavily through the night, a few flickers of dreams here and there that were mixes of memories and generic odd dreams, but overall, there wasn’t much to remember when he woke. Grunting softly at being surrounded by the sound of birds and the vague feeling of camping, Greg eventually blinked himself awake and smiled at the feeling of Mycroft brushing through his hair. 

          “Morning.” He greeted softly, his voice still rough as he pulled his head up and offered a yawning smile to the other. “Sleep well? I think I’m actually going to be spoiled against London here. Never thought I could say that with your house.” 

          “Well, it can be rather pampering to wake up to something other than car horns and the bustle of London.” Mycroft smiled, cupping his cheek. “I think we can spoil ourselves a little more with a delicious breakfast, preparing a nice picnic lunch, and going to those gardens too.” Greg laughed softly as the man kissed him on his nose, smiling as he watched Mycroft get partially dressed while he continued to lay about on the bed until he was finally convinced to get up by the rumble in his stomach. “As much as I would love to prepare breakfast, you know how I am in the kitchen. Shall we my dear? I think I might actually prefer a bath first.” 

          “I think I can make us some eggs. Not thinking too much,” He hummed, chuckling at Mycroft’s antics as he eventually got up and threw on some clothes. Glancing around the kitchen, he tried to come up with something to have with the eggs and eventually settled on toast, and a bit of fruit to make Mycroft happy. He also put together their basket for lunch, and luckily, whoever set up the kitchen, had given them plenty of cold cuts and cheese to pack away as well. Tucking away a bottle of red wine, Greg smirked to himself as he heard the politician humming in the bathroom before going and leaning against the doorframe as he watched Mycroft with a fond smile. “Having fun love?” The bathroom was open, no closed doors or glass walls, just floor to ceiling tiles with a drain on one end of the room where the shower head was, and a toilet and sink on the other. 

          “I would be having more fun if there were a certain silver fox in the shower with me.” Greg shook his head as he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed his pants to the side, figuring he would need an actual change of clothes before the rest of the day. Reaching under the running water to check the temperature, he joined Mycroft and ran his hands over his soap slicked skin. 

          “If I’m a silver fox, does that make you a red wolf?” Greg asked with a laugh, kissing Mycroft’s cheek before reaching for the shampoo to pour into his palm and gently scrub it through Mycroft’s hair. “Never been called a fox before you, though, I must say I like it.” He chuckled, lazily running his fingers over the man’s scalp as he knew he liked so much. “I just don’t have a nickname for you.” 

          “Red wolf? Really? I can’t see myself being compared to that. Maybe a large cat or something, with power and indifference, but a wolf?” Greg chuckled when Mycroft said he wasn’t a wolf, humming in agreement that he was more like a cat. “A lion then? Scary when you want to be, but still purrs and lounges around on your back?” He asked with a soft laugh, dipping his head forwards when Mycroft began to wash his hair for him in turn. It was times like this that Greg loved, the simple moments that were so painfully domestic, it felt like they were straight from a cheap romance novel. It was amazing to have this with someone like Mycroft, after putting in his time with his ex. 

          “I like the idea of a Tiger or Jaguar more. Sleek, powerful, but yes. I still love to cuddle with the right person. I cannot believe that no one has ever called you a fox before. You are devilishly handsome, and very likeable. That silver hair of yours only adds to your appeal, my love.” Greg ducked his head under the water to rinse off, smiling as Mycroft spoke. 

          “Come on, let’s have breakfast then get on our way to the gardens,”

          “Breakfast sounds lovely.” Shutting off the water, Greg took the towel from Mycroft, drying himself off and wrapping it around his waist before he could grab clean clothes. “I’m assuming we might have to warm this a little?” It only took a few moments to do so, and Greg served them up, grabbing jam from the fridge for the toast before sitting down and tucking into their meal. 

          “Made a picnic for us too. Some cheese and meats and wine for us to take with.” He said with a smile, nibbling on his toast and reaching out to run his fingers lightly over Mycroft’s hand. Greg was glad that they were going to have a few lazy days, simply enjoying their time with each other instead of rushing around to see everything as fast as they could before being forced back to their jobs again. Of course he wanted to see everything, but their tour the day before had been one massive check off his list, and he was sure Mycroft would make sure he still saw everything else that was absolutely necessary to see when visiting Rome. “I think it might be best just to take a taxi out to the gardens instead of a bus, unless you have your own car?” 

          “I don’t have a car, but I am sure that I can round something up for us.” Greg could only shake his head in amusement when Mycroft said he could sort something out, honestly wondering if there were any connections he didn’t have simply due to his power. “It has been a while since I have driven, so would you mind my dear?” 

          “You’re still the only one who can read Italian, so unless you want to become horribly lost, it would definitely be best if you navigated.” He pointed out with a laugh, following Mycroft to get dressed and with one last lazy snog. They made their way out to the car that was now magically waiting for them at the curb. Taking a moment to get used to driving on the opposite side of the road than what he was used to, it didn’t take long for them to get out on the highway, and Greg was finally able to relax once they were out of Rome proper. 

 

          Smiling at how lush and green the town of Tivoli was once they arrived, Greg found them a parking spot near the gardens before getting their little cooler and taking Mycroft’s hand. The city didn’t feel remotely as touristy as Rome had, even though there were enough signs in English and other languages to show that they still relied heavily on tourism. He loved being a tourist anyone. Once they had found their way through the walls surrounding the gardens, it felt like they had been transported into a painting. Green hedges and old but well maintained trees surrounded them along with the constant soothing sound of running water from the different fountains. 

          “All the fountains are run by gravity from the old aquifer systems. That’s why there’s so many hills and terraces through here, to make sure everything has enough power to do what they want. But still, just the planning and the workmanship that went into all of this, it’s unbelievable what they could do hundreds of years ago. It went into disrepair for a long time, too, but after the world wars, people really started working to restore the villa and the fountains, and I’m glad they did.” He explained softly, smiling over to Mycroft when he looked back at him with his own amused smirk. “You know I read too much useless online history, don’t look at me like that when I want to share it. All I’m saying is that it’s pretty amazing what can be done when someone’s got the money to make someone do it for them.” 

           “I didn’t say anything my dear. Would you like to know some of the real history that goes just beyond speculation?” Mycroft moved to his other side, wrapping his hands around Greg’s arm. “This place became part of the Roman empire a bit before I was born, but by then it was famed and had gained a great reputation for it’s beauty and had become something of a resort, at least, for those who could afford that luxury. The Emperor Hadrian, who was one of the few good Emperor’s, never much liked staying in the typical palace in Rome. So, he constructed a retreat out here in the gardens, which is one of the few villas that still stand. Hadrian was also the one who finished the construction on the Pantheon, and I know I said that we met at the building’s dedication when Marcus Agrippa, which is partially true. It was more the start of the building, like a ground breaking of storts. We saw the building built together, and Sherlock wanted to tour the construction site, but it wasn’t until Hadrian that it was complete, though it always kept Agrippa’s inscription. Hadrian was also the one to build the wall which marked Rome’s claim on northern Britannia. He was ambitious, and by far, one of my favourite emperors. As my family was well to do, we had the honour of being invited to this very villa as his guests on several occasions, and of course I brought you along. We couldn’t tell Hadrian the truth about us, as our appeared age gap would lead people to ask questions, but you came with as I refused to go without you.” 

           “Is it really speculation if I’m talking about how something was physically constructed though?” Greg asked with an amused smirk, pressing a light kiss to Mycroft’s shoulder as he described his memories of visiting one of the Emperor’s that Greg only knew by name. Looking around the gardens again as he listened, he found that he couldn’t really remember much of anything, as he was sure the memories he was projecting onto the landscape were either imagined or from some place else. “Well, I’m glad you brought me along even if I can’t remember it.” He said with a fond smile, joining Mycroft on the ground and setting to work on getting the cork out of the wine without making too much of a mess of it all. “Somehow, I never thought about our appearance when we would have met through the years. How did you usually get away with people questioning our age gaps?” 

          “Well, during the earlier lives, life expectancy wasn’t as long as the later years, so it was a lot easier during those periods, but up until recently, we didn’t tell people we were together as being a gay couple wasn’t accepted, not to mention, most years it was a crime.” Mycroft frowned, and while of course Greg knew the history of the laws surrounding homosexuals from both a personal standpoint as well as studying it for his job, it still felt weird to remember that they had technically lived it too. It still felt like that had been a long time ago, but when you really looked at it on paper, it truly wasn’t. Shrugging off the slight cloud that had settled over them and about to make a jab at Mycroft’s ‘cooking’ skills to cheer him up, Greg froze when the man’s phone began to ring, at first assuming the worst in that the world was actually coming to an end if Anthea was needing to contact him. “It’s mummy,” Mycroft’s voice was soft as he answered the phone, putting it up to his ear. “Hello mother dearest,” 

          “Mother dearest?” He mouthed with a smirk once Mycroft had answered, lowering himself onto his elbow and sipping at his wine while he watched over the politician talking to his parents. 

          “Well, mother, it is Gregory and I’s anniversary, so this was a holiday for us. If we were here for any other reason, I would have told you, but the circumstances are a bit different.” Sipping at his wine, he listed to Mycroft’s side of the conversation and raised an eyebrow when Mycroft covered the phone and looked to him. “She wants to come and visit for an evening.” They were being invited over to meet them, or rather, she was inviting herself over. He was glad that Mycroft was already standing up for the fact that it was their anniversary and they were trying to celebrate it by themselves. “Also mother, you know how I hate that nickname. You named me Mycroft, please say it properly.” Greg couldn’t help but laugh as he reached out to squeeze the other’s hand. 

          “It’s up to you. We are free the next few evenings.” He pointed out softly, not wanting to put Mycroft in an even more awkward position of flat out denying or agreeing to something he didn’t want to do. 

          “No, it’s a horrendous butchering of my name, Mother. Also, you have already met him, plenty of times. We’ve only touched on the subject, and I haven’t discussed it further.” Mycroft gave an apologetic smile over to Greg, mouthing that he was sorry to be on the phone. There was a sigh and then Mycroft was handing the phone over to him with a frown. 

          “It’s fine,” Greg assured him as he fell into a sulk that reminded him almost painfully so that he really was blood to Sherlock. Leaning over for a quick peck on the lips before taking the phone, he greeted the woman who he awkwardly couldn’t remember the name of while shuffling to lean against Mycroft’s side to continue to cheer him up. 

          “Gregory darling! It has been so long since I’ve heard your voice my dear! Now, I wanted to ask if you wouldn’t mind if Siger and I popped in one evening for dinner. Mycie seems to think he should have you all to himself this week, and possibly for longer, and that it needs to be discussed with you before meeting us. I thought I would just ask you myself as my son can be a bit of a drama queen on occasion.”

          “Mycie?” Greg muttered under his breath with a small chuckle, only laughing harder when the man groaned again and decided to drink his pain away with their wine. “Sorry, I’m sorry. Both of you.” He chuckled, taking a moment to clear his throat and calm down again before continuing with their conversation. “In Mycroft’s defense, we had only just touched on meeting everyone’s parents last week, and we didn’t have anything concrete planned from there on. Sometime this week would be wonderful, maybe towards the end so we could plan a meal I can make everyone?” Greg offered, looking over to Mycroft to make sure that would work for him as well, along with buying some time to get his sulk out of the way.  

          “Well, my son should have touched on the subject sooner, it has been a year now! My dear, we have known you for quite some time, I don’t know why he decided to wait so long to bring you around this time!” she fussed, hushing Siger as he tried to defend Mycroft. “Brilliant, We can meet you two at the end of the week, Friday maybe? That gives you two a day and a half left to celebrate together before we come, and as for the meal, I am always more than willing to help with that my dear. You know, you and I used to cook in the kitchen together all the time. It’s one of my favourite past times really…” 

          “I’ve been told I am a bit shy this time around,” Greg defended Mycroft gently, deciding that it certainly wasn’t a lie as he was quite nervous at the idea of meeting his partner’s parents, not to mention being introduced to the Queen. Mouthing for Mycroft to come over, Greg reached up with his free hand to run it lazily along his scalp, rubbing small circles into the base of his neck while he continued to talk with his mother on the phone. “I’m sure Friday will work for us. It’ll be nice to cook with you again. You’ll have to share some of Mycroft’s favourites so I can make them for him some time.” 

          “Oh nonsense dear, you will open up right away, I just know it. Well, we should let you go, Siger is getting a bit tired as he hasn’t taken his afternoon nap. I will think of some recipes and send them over to Mycie so he can pick up the ingredients. We shall see you Friday. Have fun boys. Love you.” With that, she clicked off and Greg shook his head in amusement as he hung up on his side as well, putting the phone down on the blanket. 

          “I am so sorry that you had to deal with that my dear, that is not how I imagined you meeting them again, and she can always be so abrasive as she likes to just assume she is invited anywhere and can just show up. Sorry love, you will have to thank Sherlock for all of this. Apparently he thought it was his duty to inform them that we were on holiday in Rome, and of course, that meant mummy was sure to call us for a visit. I will admit though, she has been more persistent to meet you than I had previously let on.” Greg smiled fondly as Mycroft began to complain about his family. 

          “You’re adorable,” He finally settled on, cupping the back of the politician’s head so that he could pull him in for a long, gentle kiss. “You and Sherlock are far more alike than either of you will ever admit to. You know just as well as I do that the moment Sherlock meets John again, you’ll be on the phone with your parents as well.” Greg pointed out, smiling as he sat up and began to eat their food again. “Moms are moms. They’re always going to want to know what’s going on in their children's lives. That’s what they’re supposed to do. I’m sure it will be fine; so far I’ve had a pretty good record with everyone we’ve known from a previous life and they all like me.” 

           “Yes, well, you are rather likable, and very handsome, and funny and just all around an amazing man.” Mycroft cooed, kissing him again before moving to the food. “If someone actually said they didn’t like you, I would think them mental. I must admit, you chose a perfect meal, and your ability to choose wine pairings is getting better and better. If I didn’t know different, I would assume you have been doing this for a while now,” Greg chuckled as they relaxed again, Mycroft praising his pairings before laying down beside him. “It’s so nice out today, I feel as though I could sit in the gardens all afternoon and just enjoy the breeze and the sounds.” 

           “You make it very easy when the only wine you get is amazing on its own, and you finally got it through my head that you don’t have to have everything cold.” He teased easily, shifting over on the blanket and gently pulling Mycroft up so that he would be laying in his lap. It was disgustingly picturesque, but in a way that only made it better in Greg’s mind. He actually had the dream life that everyone hoped for but only thought was possible in movies. “I do think it’s funny your mum calls you Mycie,” he said after a minute, not caring that he just ruined the moment they were sharing and laughing at the glare and the backhanded smack that he received to his stomach. “It is! No doubt you were hoping that I’d never remember that part, but I think it’s adorable. I swear I won’t tell the Queen about it because I know you would make me pay.” Greg laughed, leaning down to kiss Mycroft and take away any half annoyance he felt towards his gentle teasing. “Bt more serious though, what is your mother’s name? I know I’m not remembering it correctly, but I remember it was something like Rose or Lily.” 

           “I really wish you had never heard that, and I feel it will come and haunt me too soon. Her name is Violet, and father’s name is Siger. Though, as much as you may not be ready for it, she will insist that you call her mum and dad. I think Father couldn’t care either way, but mummy has always been very headstrong and will not accept either you or John calling her Violet,” Mycroft chuckled, looking up at him. 

           “Maybe in time,” Greg agreed to the idea of calling his eventual mother-in-law mum, but for now he was glad that Mycroft realised that wasn’t going to happen first thing. 

            “Tell me more about your parents? Obviously it is a new set every time that I meet you, so it’s always interesting to see the similarities throughout the centuries and the differences,” Asking about his parents, he hummed softly as he tried to think of how to describe them, though he was sidetracked for a moment with the realisation that he’d had eleven other parents, and he found himself wondering what they had been like as well. If they had been as understanding when he had come out, or if he had come to Mycroft after being kicked out. Maybe they had been a big part of his life, or passive… did he have other siblings? Deciding to try and sort some of that out another time, Greg shook his head as he looked back down at Mycroft. 

            “My parents are pretty average I guess. Mum was a nurse, then left to stay home with me. Once I was in secondary, she decided to work in sales because it was simple and something to do. Dad’s always been in business, different levels of management. He was traveling a lot for a while, which is when their marriage nearly fell apart. They were a bit confused at first when I came out to them, but it didn’t stop my dad from threatening one of my friends thinking he was my boyfriend. He used the classic ‘you hurt him, I kill you’ line, and his face was priceless when he realised we really were just friends. When I think about it now it’s sweet, but back then it was just horribly embarrassing.” 

            “They sound really sweet. I cannot wait to meet them. Maybe, if it is alright with you, we could swing by France on our way back home and see them for an evening? Obviously, I would want to make sure that it is alright with them, but I think it would be wonderful to meet them. I’m not going to force myself on them though, if they aren’t ready. Even if my mum seems to think that is okay to do with you, I would never.” Greg smiled when Mycroft mentioned going through France to see his family on their way back home, brushing his fingers one last time through the politician’s hair before he moved to sit up. 

            “Well, I hate to break it to you, but the only family I have left in France is my Mémé. My parents live in England now, though I’m sure they’d like to meeting you some time if you’d like to. My mum certainly wouldn’t get upset with the idea of a surprise visit from me.” Greg said with a grin, rubbing his hands along Mycroft’s back as he stretched his tense muscles. 

            “I’m sorry, I’m not sure why I thought your parents were still in France. I would love to meet your Mémé, but only when you think it appropriate given what you have told me of her. Are you sure your mother wouldn’t mind if we showed up unannounced?” Mycroft paused for a moment before standing, holding out a hand for him. “Well, it is getting later in the afternoon, should we pack up and head home, maybe find something quite to do for the evening and plan what we wish to do for tomorrow? I feel like the first two days were so exciting that taking things a bit slower sounds nice.” Mycroft started to put food back in the basket and folding the blanket as he stretched and helped pick up as well. “Thank you for being so accepting of my parents so far, they can be a bit much sometimes. Then again, aren’t all parents?”  

           “Well, I certainly don’t have any instinctual reason to not like your parents, so I don’t see why I shouldn’t be accepting of them. It’s always an adventure with you, and I like it.” 

           “Yes, well, my mother can be a bit… well, how do I put this, she sometimes does not respect boundaries, and I think she forgets sometimes that you don’t know her like she does you, so it can be a tad much at times,” He explained as they walked to the car. “As for the meal, I’m sure she will come up with something, so we should go shopping Friday morning to pick up anything she might need, and it’s not like we really need to clean as the staff already did that proceeding our arrival. The only thing might be that we set up the extra bedroom to accommodate them. I know they won’t stay the night, but just incase.” Greg laughed as Mycroft mused about his parents, slipping into the driver's seat and waiting for the other to program the GPS. 

           “Well, my mum loves entertaining, so I know how it can be to have someone who is all for seeing the family. All she would want for us is a warning before dinner to know to set out an extra plate or two. If anyone would care, it would be my dad.” He said with a grin, thinking back at how his parents argued. It was sweet, in a way, the two of them never bickering much compared to when he was growing up, and always taking a moment to tell each other that they loved each other in the middle of their fights. “Last time I showed up unannounced, my dad was upset that he wouldn’t be getting as big of a piece of the tart he had bought as he thought he would. That’s really who they are. Just sort of dopey like me.” Greg shrugged, looking over at Mycroft with a fond smile. 

           “I wouldn’t use the word dopey to describe any of you, just very easy going.” 

           “I am nervous about meeting your parents though. I am excited too. It might spark something like the Coloseum did.” He added, deciding to leave out his secret hope that maybe his mother would have a few embarrassing stories from Mycroft’s childhood to share as well, like any parent had to share.

*****

           When they reached the house, Mycroft put all of their things away and started to tidy up, as well as gathering the items for the spare room. He knew there was a chance that his parents would stay, but he really was hoping they wouldn’t. This holiday was supposed to be about the two of them, being together again, not about meeting the family. Once he had made up the extra room, he moved to the kitchen and pulled out the wonderful gift of a cookbook and started to leaf through the pages, wondering what they might make for dinner that night. It wasn’t long before he felt Gregory wrap his arms around his waist and rest his chin on his shoulder. 

           “I love you. I’m so happy now with everything. I just… I love you.” 

           “I love you too Gregory,” Resting his hands on the other’s he couldn’t exactly hug the man back in this position, so he waited a few more seconds before turning around in his arms and facing the other. “You have been saying that a lot, is there something on your mind? Don’t get me wrong, I love hearing it, it’s just that you seem to be extra ‘romantic’ the past week or so,” Bringing his hands up, Mycroft cupped the man’s cheeks, running his thumbs over Gregory’s cheekbones, smiling as he looked into those eyes, his heart warmed by that crooked smile. 

           “We’re here. I’ve always wanted to travel and now we are here.” Gregory murmured, rubbing his thumbs along Mycroft’s hips before leaning up to kiss him slowly. “I’m just happy, that’s all.” Mycroft could tell that there was something more that Gregory wasn’t tell him, but he wasn’t going to press it. If he wanted to tell him, he would in his own time. 

           “Well, I am glad that you are happy. Now, shall we decide what to make for dinner?” Turning back to the book, Mycroft flipped through it, trying to sort out what they could make. “Ah, here, this sounds delicious and it’s classic Italian meal. Baccala Alla Pizzaiola, or in English, cod with Tomato. We have all the ingredients except for the cod, so we could stop at the corner market just down the street and grab some fresh and come back and start?” Mycroft turned to the other, knowing that it would be Gregory who would be cooking the meal, so he handed him the book. “If that doesn’t sound appealing, I’m sure we can find something else.” Waiting, he kept looking from the book to the other and trying to deduce what he was thinking, which was never particularly easy with Gregory. 

           “I think that sounds great. Simple too. You may even be able to make this,” Gregory said with a teasing laugh, leaning over to give him a quick kiss on the cheek before letting go and getting a quick glass of water. “Lead the way, then. Is pizza really the way you say tomato in Italian? Every time I’m ordering pizza, I’m ordering tomato?” 

           “Well, not quite. Tomato is pomodoro, but I wouldn’t exactly know how else to translate pizzaiola into English. There are always those words in other languages that never translate very well.” Explaining it was harder than he thought, but he wasn’t sure how else to put it. As they walked down the street, they easily navigated through the market and Gregory picked out a few extra ingredients he thought would compliment the dish well, grabbing vegetables so they could add a side as well. “I love grilled asparagus, and you always make it so perfect, just the right amount of cooked and crunch. Plus, it compliments the seafood so nicely.” Mycroft didn’t know how to cook, but he considered himself a bit of a food critic after having had food from some of the best chef’s in all of history and from all around the world. Returning to the house, they easily set a pace in the kitchen, finishing the prep work, and of course he fell into line doing whatever was asked of him. When all that was left was to let the fish bake, Mycroft sat back and accepted the wine glass that Gregory gave him, leaning against the counter and taking a sip. 

           “So, what do we have planned for tomorrow? Anything in particular besides planning for your parents?” 

           “We could visit the Vatican? I have never been, so it would be a first for the both of us. It wasn’t founded till long after I had left Rome.” Mycroft took a few more sips, moving through the kitchen and grabbing their dishes so they could set the table while they waited for their meal. There was only a few minutes left on the timer, and he couldn’t wait to tuck into the fantastic food that Gregory had prepared. “If we go earlier in the morning, say around ten or so, then we should get done with plenty of time to figure out what we will make for dinner Friday, have lunch ourselves and rest a bit in the evenin. Also, if there is anything you want to ask or talk about before they come, tomorrow evening is the time.” He chuckled, setting down his lgass when the timer went off and grabbing the food. Setting everything down, Mycroft took his seat across from the other and they fell into simple conversation after that. The meal was delicious as always, the fish just falling apart in his mouth and marrying so well with the other flavours, it was just brilliant. “You have outdone yourself again, my dear. Your skills in the kitchen will never cease to amaze me.” 

          “You always say that, and I’ll always take it. The Vatican would be amazing to see, I’ve heard the artwork is breathtaking. As long as you don’t make little jabs about Christianity while we’re there! I don’t particularly want to get struck by lightening.” Gregory chuckled, reaching out to take his hand. “My silly man. Vatican, lunch, debrief of your parents, sounds like a full day to me.” 

           “I always mean those compliments,” Mycroft pointed a fork in the other’s direction, smiling as he finished off his cod and sat back, his stomach full. “I promise to try and keep the comments to a minimum, and not have lightening strike or to catch fire upon entering the grounds,” He chuckled, knowing that he would tease the other, but never go so far as the embarrass him when they were out. He had been pretty good about holding his comments to himself throughout the trip, especially when there were so many things that the ‘experts’ had been telling people about his home that we just downright ridiculous. Mycroft was never sure where they came up with such ideas, and to him the truth seemed to obvious, but that was what happened when you had been alive for as long as he had. “Yes, a full day. Then Saturday, after my parents are gone, we can relax. Unfortunately we will have to come home Sunday. If you are not opposed to it, I would like to just have a home day on Saturday, maybe stay within the suburbs? I have also arranged for our flight to be a tad earlier on Sunday, so that we have time to make it to your parents for dinner that evening, if that is alright with you and them.”  

           “I’ll call them Saturday then, to make sure that it’s all kosher. Stopping by when it’s only me is one thing, but I don’t want to shock them too much with meeting you out of the blue as well. I’m too old to just lie to them with you only being a friend, so I want to at least give them a chance to come to terms with the fact that I’m with a bloke this time.” Gregory shrugged, giving a soft smile to him. “The only little thing I have left on my checklist of things I want to do here is have gelato, but I’m sure we can find some on our way back home tomorrow. I know you’re trying to be good, which is why I haven’t asked to bring any back home.” 

          “You do what you think is best darling,” Mycroft smiled as he held out his hand for the other, squeezing it gently before moving to stand and clear their plates. “Dear, just because I don’t eat it, doesn’t mean that you cannot. I can have some of the best gelato brought here no problem,” He chuckled, cleaning their dishes and placing them in the wash. “You know what I fancy now? A nice dip in the pool. I have a surprise for you, that it not only is a pool, but there are heating coils beneath the tiles and I had them turned on so that we can relax with a nice bottle of wine, and sit in a private hot tub tonight. I’m not sure about you, but I think I prefer to do this the traditional Roman style, and not wear any clothes.” Raising his eyebrow to the other, Mycroft wiggled his shoulder as he walked towards the atrium, starting to unbutton his shirt and shrugging it off.  Stripping down completely, Mycroft placed his clothes on a chair near the outside of the room before slipping into the pool. The water felt good against the cool breeze of the evening air, the stars above just starting to appear as the sun set over Rome. Gregory joined him shortly after, submerging under the water with a sigh and settling into his seat. 

           “The water’s perfect, and to see the stars…” Gregory sighed, looking to him with a fond smile. “This is what I was always trying to do, and you do it so easily without a second thought.” 

           “What you were always trying to do? I’m not sure I understand…” Mycroft’s brow furrowed, wondering what Gregory meant by that, or what he was doing so easily. If he meant sitting in the pool without clothes, that was a rather odd statement as he knew Mycroft was always self conscious and would only dare to do this when it was just the two of them. Laying back, Mycroft closed his eyes as he settled in, his head on one of the small neck pillows he kept close so he could relax like he was now. 

           “Just… getting out and doing something. Actually going somewhere instead of just… passing through. I um… it’s… it’s technically my anniversary with Caroline. I’m happier in this moment with you thank I ever was with her. I just, I was always trying to spend time with her like this, and she was always wanting a reason to do anything I suggested.” Gregory explained. “I probably shouldn’t have said any of this. Sorry.” Frowning when he heard the other talk about Caroline and how that woman treated him, Mycroft opened his eyes and sat back up, looking over to Gregory. 

           “Darling, no. I’m glad you said something and I want you to know that I will  _ always  _ want to spend time with you. I will always be willing to travel, explore or even just stay home with you. You are my life, and even when you are not around, all I can do is wait until you are back.” Mycroft moved closer to the other, one hand wrapping around the man’s shoulder and the other reach up to cup his cheek. “I want you to be happy, and I will do  _ anything  _ to give that to you.” It made his heart ache that he could have ever been treated as he had, and he never wanted him to feel that way again. 

           “I am happy, I really am, and I know you’ll give it to me. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. I love you. I’d say we should stay here all night, but we’d become a wee bit pruney after a while.” 

           “You didn’t make me feel bad love, I just want you to know that you never have to feel that way with me, and whatever you want, I will always give it to you.” Leaning in, Mycroft placed a gentle kiss on the man’s lips before pulling back. “Well, pruney yes, but I’m not sure that falling asleep in a pool is the best of most safe of ideas either,” He chuckled, running his free hand over the man’s shoulder. “That doesn’t mean we can’t have a little fun in here before we head to bed,” He was practically purring as he leaned in and peppered kisses over the man’s neck, taking deep breaths and letting the air brush over the other’s kin, his teeth nipping along Gregory’s jaw and up to that sensitive spot behind the man’s ear. 

           “Is this more what you had in mind?” The other shifted, settling himself onto Mycroft’s lap and humming as rubbed his back against the other, his head laying back on Mycroft’s shoulder. Smiling and laughing soft, he groaned as the other rubbed against his growing prick. 

            “You always know exactly what to do love,” His hands found the man’s hips and his lips continued their work on the man’s neck and shoulders. This wasn’t the first time the both of them had done something like this in the pool, but it had been a long time since he had experienced this. 

> _ Mycroft walked towards the atrium, having just finished with dinner. The servants were cleaning up and speaking with Gregori about what he wanted to cook for tomorrow. It was an oddity, his partner mingling with the help, cooking their meals instead of having the help do that, but it was something he loved about the other. Moving to the bedroom, he let his toga slip off, carefully putting it away before moving back towards the atrium and stepping into the pool that had been warmed for the night. Mycroft sighed as the warm water washed over his skin, laying his head back on the towel roll and letting his eyes close as he relaxed and tuned out the rest of the world. He must have been too far into his own thoughts, as he never heard Gregori join him. It wasn’t until the man was leaning in, his teeth abusing the skin on his collarbones and those rough hands on his stomach and groin. Arching his back, he let out a sigh as the other continued to work him over.  _

           “Gregori, et baculus tuus, ipsa tamen non reliquit.”  _ Gregory, the staff, they haven’t left yet.  _ It was as if his memories were taking over, the past and the present melting together, which was always something his very talented lover managed to bring out in him. 

           “What do you remember?” Hearing the other ask the question drew him back a bit as he looked down, his breathing still a tad hitched. 

           “Right after we purchased this home and moved back to Rome, you were getting close with the help, cooking, and doing what you always did. I, of course, was over seeing the servants who were bringing our things in and unpacking. We had a late dinner, and I decided to try out the pool for the first time, relaxing and losing myself, trying to block out the stress from the day. I was so out of it, I didn’t even hear you get in, and you…” Mycroft let out a breathy groan as the memories flooded back a little, his hips canting against the other, desperate for more. 

            ‘Well, you certainly are fun to catch off guard, and you always worry yourself about things that aren’t necessary to worry about.” His mouth hung open and his breathing was starting to quicken as the other ran his hands along his thighs and kept rocking against him, his eyes fluttering shut as he listened to the other. “I think I can figure out the rest of the memory… would you like to walk down that path or make some new ones?” 

            “Ah, Gregori,” The accent was slipping back to him, the sound of the other’s name rolling from his tongue as his breath caught in his throat, Mycroft’s skin turning scarlet as the other continued to rub against him. “I will let you decide love. Take the lead my light, no matter what, as long as I have you, I will be in heaven.” Mycroft rocked against the other, finding just the right pace, slowly moving towards something more. If he knew Gregory though, this wouldn’t last before he would pull away and take over. There was no way he would get away this easy without more teasing. 

            “You will always have me,” Gregory murmured, his words slightly rough from arousal. Turning around in his lap, the other wrapped a hand around the both of them, stroking them further along with their pleasure. “I have you, my beautiful Mycroft. I love you.” There were sure to be bruises left on Gregory’s hips as he held on, his breathing growing quicker as the other continued, giving him that sweet friction. 

             “Gods, Gregory, please, yes,” Mycroft’s voice echoes through the atrium, the air filled with their sighs, moans and the soft wound of water moving around them as they bucked against one another. “Please, love, I want you, please take me, I want to feel you,” That was another thing that he loved so very much about their relationship, that they could give and receive without question. Neither was dominant all the time, and neither submissive, but they played to each other’s strengths, switching back and forth, pushing and pulling in perfect harmony. There could never be anyone more perfect that his beloved Gregory for him. 

             “You have me,” Gregory whispered, shifting up to capture his mouth while he continued to stroke them both. “Mycroft, just like that, come for me my darling.” Pamtomg. The pleasure and desperation started to build and was taking over as he thrust into the other’s hand, growing more erratic in his movements by the minute. 

              “Gods, yes, Gregory!” His voice was husky, rough as he closed his eyes and felt himself fall over, the pleasure crashing over him as the other continued to work him over. The pace started to stagger as Gregory drew closer and closer to his own climax, and Mycroft just held on, his muscles shaking as he felt his orgasm rocked through him, the other chasing his own. It wasn’t long till he felt that familiar stagger and other thrust up once more before stalling, just holding on tight to him as he felt him relax. “Tell me this little pool has a filter now, or I’ll never be able to look your staff in the eyes again.” 

              “Some things haven’t been updated in awhile, and lot of the pool is still original, except for the updated electrical. There’s a bit of filtration, in a sense. Just don’t think about it love,” Mycroft chuckled, having long since gotten over the fact that his staff had cleaned up this sort of mess before. Stepping out of the pool after a bit, he let Gregory dry him off and wrap the towel around his waist. “I have a feeling I will be dreaming about tonight and the first night in the pool combined for a very long time.” Setting the towel up to dry, Mycroft climbed into bed, foregoing the pants or any clothing for that matter. Gregory climbed into bed next to him and threw an arm around his stomach to hold him close. 

             “Well, I’m glad to be of service,” Gregory teased, pressing a kiss to Mycroft’s shoulder before falling asleep easily. 


	21. XX

           Mycroft was a bit frantic, rushing about the domus and trying to get everything together for his parents. Thursday had flown by, having spent most of their morning at the Vatican, and afterwards they enjoyed a late lunch before planning for today. He had kept his comments to himself for the most part while they visited, only really having to walk away or silence himself a few times when he heard the guides. The paintings and art were incredible, especially the Sistine Chapel, but of course he had to add his own history in there as he had met with Michelangelo before. Actually, he had met most of the famous renaissance painters. Michelangelo had a temper though, that was for certain, and he wasn’t exactly happy that the Pope was practically ordering him to paint the chapel, especially with the Catholics views on homosexuality, which, most of the greats were. When he realised he couldn’t get out of it, the two of them had spent a late night together, and Michelangelo confided with him that if he were to do it, he would it his own way and do a myriad of really fit, naked men on the wall. It had been a sight to see the Pope’s anger when the mural had finally been revealed. 

           Now he was at home, fussing about in the kitchen and trying to come up with a meal for the evening, flipping through the pages as he sighed and shook his head. Gregory was trying to tell him that he didn’t need to worry, that he would come up with something to make, but he still felt on edge. Closing the book, Mycroft leaned against the counter and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to settle his racing mind. In the garden, he could hear the other’s phone go off and he looked out the door to where Gregory stood, frowning as he watched the other’s expression change as he looked to his phone. 

           “It’s my dad,” Gregory called, moving to one of the side rooms. It was about twenty minutes before the other came back, and when he did, Mycroft could tell that something was weighing heavy on him. Standing, he moved to sit in a chair, ushering the other to sit across from him, and taking his hands in his own as he listened. “ Mémé’s sick with pneumonia. The doctors say she should be okay, but my parents are going to France to see her, and my dad’s staying to take care of her for a few weeks. I might go and visit as well once we get back. My parents say hi, by the way, and that they are sorry for interrupting, but they hoped you’d understand.”

           “My dear, we can go back a day early and head to France. I wouldn’t want to keep you from seeing your Mémé, or your family, especially when they are concerned like this.” Plane tickets could easily be changed, and they could spend a night in a hotel so that Gregory could be close. “We could pack up after my parents leave tonight, and head out early in the morning. What do you say?” 

           “I… yeah, I-I would like that. Thank you. I don’t want to pull meeting your parents down, though. Come on, let’s just focus on tonight for now. Okay?” 

           “Well, I just need a few minutes to get the arrangements together so that the staff know when we will be leaving. I have to get their paychecks delivered early, and their gifts. I also have to quick change our flights and book a hotel. What city would be the best to fly into?” Mycroft chattered on as he pulled out his phone, sending out message after message and making sure everything was in place before looking up to the other. 

           “Nice would be best for tomorrow, Mémé’s only about twenty minutes away from there. Don’t worry about everything else, you look like you’re about to make yourself sick trying to get everything perfect. It’s your parents, they already love me, so I don’t have to worry about any of that. The hardest part is already over. You look angry love, what’s wrong?” 

          “I’m sorry love, I just don’t like feeling this way. I’ve looked through the book, can’t find anything to prepare, we still have to shop, and I hate that I’m nervous, nothing ever makes me nervous, at least, nothing except things that shouldn’t. I am always on edge the first time I meet you again, when I tell you about our past, when you meet my parents of Sherlock, not that I had a choice this time around seeing as Sherlock found you first. I’m just hoping that getting out of the domus will get my mind off of what is happening tonight.” Mycroft relaxed as the other moved to wrap his arms around his shoulders, sighing and resting his head against Gregory’s chest. “I know I shouldn’t worry and it always works out fine, but I can’t help it. When it comes to you and anything that pertains to you, I can’t help but worry that it won’t be perfect and that something will go wrong. I never want to lose you or to have you leave me because of something I could have prevented. Well, that’s not to say I would be okay if you left because of something I couldn’t… I wouldn’t be alright with that either,” He started to babble, his heart thudding in his chest as he fussed again.

          “My, I’m saying this with the infinite amount of love I have for you in my heart, but you’re being an idiot.” Gregory laughed softly as he vented, holding him close and running his hands through his hair and massaging his scalp. “I’m not going to leave because meeting the parents didn’t go as smooth as possible. I’m competing with eleven other times, no doubt there have been some that have gone smoother than others. We’re still together, so stop panicking, and stop biting your lip. One of these days you’re going to rip the poor thing off with the amount of stress you live with. I know you want things perfect, I do too. I’d rather you meet my family under happier circumstances instead of with Mémé in hospital, but it’s still happening. Now, take a breath, and let’s go get some gelato, hm?” Nodding after a few moments, Mycroft stood and wrapped his arms around the other’s shoulders, burying his face in Gregory’s neck and just standing there for a minute. 

           “I love you dear. Thank you.” His voice was quiet as he held him close, breathing in the other’s scent and feeling him there around him. Sometimes all it took was just to have Gregory close by, to feel him near, and just like that he could make his fears and worries dissipate. Pulling back, he gave the other a soft smile and took his hand as they walked out the door. It was beautiful outside, not too hot and only a few clouds in the sky as they walked down to the market. Gregory wanted fresh ingredients to work with and Mycroft was more than happy to oblige and take a moment to get away from the house. They made their way through the small town slowly, looking at the different vendors, and Mycroft gave Gregory the task of picking out a few gifts for different people they could bring back as he was horrible at choosing them himself. “There is a small shop around the corner that has the best gelato in town, or so I am told.” Mycroft smiled as he handed Gregory the bag with the items and paying the vendor before walking down the street hand in hand with the other. 

            “I’m sure every shop brags about being the best in town. As long as I get some chocolate I’ll be happy.” Gregory said with a grin, pressing a quick kiss to Mycroft’s shoulder. 

           “Yes, well, my staff seems to rave about this one particular shop, so I am not going off of the shop itself. You always seem to know this, and frequently remind me, no matter what life, that the locals always know best.” Mycroft chuckled, walking slowly alongside the other, content to take their time as they had plenty before his parents were to arrive. Someone was already waiting for them at the airport and would bring them around, and their flight wasn’t set to land until four, so they had a good chunk of time to kill before they would arrive. Watching as the other lit up and ordered, a smile on his face, Mycroft paid for the sweet and took a seat outside, across from the other while he tucked in. “So, we’ve got the food, some gifts, and now you have your gelato. Is there anything else you want to do before we go back home, or anything you want to do at home before my parents arrive?” Mycroft ran his toes up the man’s calf, smiling as he saw the other give him a smirk. 

            “I have to say, I think I’ve quite enjoyed my week here. Busier than I had expected at the end, but I’ve been able to see everything I’ve wanted, and do everything too.” Gregory quipped back, his tone suggesting more at the end. “What do you want to do? Anything else you still want to show me here?” 

            “I have seen all that Rome has to offer over many lifetimes, I just enjoy spending time with you here.” Mycroft smiled, his foot going a tad higher as he chuckled lightly, crossing his legs as part of the play and touching the tip of his toes to the man’s inner thigh. “I know we will be seeing your Mémé and family in Nice, but I don’t think she’ll be up for visitors when we get there, not that early in the morning. Maybe we can take a tour of some of the places we used to go, and where I first met you there. If I’m not mistaken, you actually remember when we met, I do remember you telling me about Redbeard.” Raising a brow, he continued to gently move his foot up and down the man’s thigh, loving the look he was getting as he tried to shift his position and control his expressions. 

             “I forgot that was in Nice. I loved that dog.” Gregory chuckled, shivering when Mycroft’s foot moved a little higher and biting down on the spoon he had in his mouth. “It’ll be amusing to visit somewhere that we both know. I haven’t been there for a while, but I would go there a fair number of summers to spend with Mémé in school.” 

           “Well, then you might be more familiar with the city than I am, seeing as I haven’t been there since we lived there together, and that was awhile ago.” Mycroft pressed his foot in a little further, loving the shiver he saw run up the other’s spine as he tried to play if off. “How is your gelato my dear?” He smirked, intentionally messing with the other now, asking inane questions and making small talk as he continued to tease. Biting his lower lip, Mycroft scanned the other, making sure no one else able to see what he was doing before returning his attention to Gregory. 

            “Stop it,” Gregory hissed with a laugh. “I hate you,” He muttered, as he squirmed under Mycroft’s touch. “It’s very good, we’ll have to come back some other time to do some actual research and see if it really is the best in town.” The other joked, dropping a hand down and squeezing his ankle. “You’re still crazy, you know that?” Raising a brow, Mycroft chuckled when he saw his cheeks starting to turn a light shade of pink. 

            “I’m not sure what you are talking about Gregory, we are just sitting here, outside a gelato shop, enjoying the afternoon before my parents come,” Feigning innocence, Mycroft pressed a little harder this time, rubbing just the tip against the other’s groin, the man’s grip on his ankle not really holding him back in the slightest. “If you are ready to go home though, we can. We have everything we need, and I’m sure there are a few things we have purchased that should get to the refrigerator,” They still had about two hours before his parents would arrive in the airport, and by time they got home, they would only have about an hour and a half to clean up, get dinner started, and relax for a bit before they were at the front door. 

            “Bastard,” Gregory teased easily, nudging his leg away so they both could stand, and Mycroft had to hide a smile as the other adjusted himself, trying to hide his growing bulge. “Right. So. Dinner. I’m going to throw things at you one of these days for all this, you’re too old to be doing that to me, you know that?” 

            “I feel like normal age stereotypes don’t apply to myself as most don’t live to my age.” Mycroft pointed out, behaving himself as they walked back to the domus, unlocking the gate and letting the other in first. He followed Gregory to the kitchen as he put some of the items away, waiting until all was settled before pressing up against the other’s back. 

*****

           “Now, we do have some time before we need to start dinner love… and I don’t think we are going to get another chance like this for a bit with the next few days we have. Please love, I want you to take me, rough and hard. I want to feel you inside of me, because I’m not sure when the next time I will be able to have that will be,” Greg shivered hard when Mycroft start teasing down his back, telling him just exactly what it was that he wanted from him, turning around to kiss him deeply. They were alone this time, he was sure of it, as he hadn’t heard anyone pacing around the domus. The idea of taking Mycroft in the pool once again was enticing, but he wasn’t particularly sure he wanted to apologise to the staff again before they left, but… there was a rather nice chaise in the central garden that the rooms were centered around. 

           “Come here,” Greg murmured, tugging Mycroft along without telling him his idea until he had brought him over to the chair and pushing him over the side so that he was arse up for him. “Is this what you wanted?” Greg purred, reaching around to quickly undo the man’s belt and zipper before pushing his trousers and pants down just far enough to get exactly what he wanted. “Just like this?” 

           “Yes, Gregory, work me open, use those rough, calloused hands on me, make my skin red, use me love, please,” Greg laughed softly as he leaned over to bite at Mycroft’s shoulder, not caring that it was through his button-down, scrambling to get his own pants down. “Gods, Gregory, I want you, I want your gorgeous prick in me, filling me up and taking me whole…” 

           “My silly man, always wanting to be dominated. What would those people you’ve sent back to their countries shaking in their shoes think if they knew that a common DI could bow you over the side of a sofa and take you so easily, having you begging to have me inside of you?” He teased as he shifted around just enough to tease a finger into the man’s arse. “Always wanting it hard, and fast, and rough, such a proper man yet so very dirty.” 

           “Yes, well, I am always in control, and only the right person can make me lose it,” Mycroft growled, starting to push back against his hand. “So have I begged enough for you to take me Gregory, or do I need to continue, because I think you are still holding back.” Greg laughed softly as he felt Mycroft try to take over his control, pulling his hand back just for a moment, long enough to land an open handed slap to the man’s arse before spitting into his palm to slick himself up. The politician was only just prepped enough not to put him at risk of getting hurt as he slowly pushed into him, savouring the tight pressure that now surrounded him. 

            “Just like that, love. Fucking…” He breathed, pressing his head down between Mycroft’s shoulder blades as he pressed fully into him. Taking a moment to catch his breath, he slowly thrust in and out of his lover until he was able to move easier, finally picking up speed. 

            “Yes, Gregory, just like…Gods! Gregory, please,” Their voices were echoing off the walls, the sounds of their pants, their groans and that slap sounding far louder than it actually was. It was delicious, music to his ears to hear it all, especially when his partner started to beg. Greg moaned out a low sigh as Mycroft urged him on, taking a moment to gather himself before pushing himself up to start going as hard and fast as he could. He loved Mycroft so very much, and while he loved whenever they went slow and gentle with one another, by God there was something special to when it was as hard as they could go. 

            “Fuck, Mycroft, I… Christ, I love you…” Greg kissed Mycroft, just for a moment as their angle hardly allowed for them to do so comfortably. 

            “Please, my love, I… I…” Mycroft stuttered, his eyes fluttering back as Greg continued to pound into him, and he decided to hold him down firmly, his hand planted in the center of the other’s back as he searched for the other’s sweet spot. His nails dug into the other as he dragged his hand down, Mycroft’s body starting to tighten around him when he hit his prostate. “Gregory, I love you, please, yes, I’m going to…” 

            “Just like that. Let go. I want to feel it.” Greg murmured, leaning down to nip along Mycroft’s neck. “I have you. God, My, I want to feel you come right here in the middle of the room, bent over the sofa like a common whore.” Mycroft whimpered and nodded, just letting go as he continued to work him over. 

            “Yes love, yes.” Greg was too lost in the moment to fully realise what he had just said, instead chasing after his own pleasure as he felt Mycroft’s body clench and spasm around him, his cries and thrusts only pushing him further. It was him, and only him that could get the politician to fall apart so beautifully. “Fuck, Gregory ah!” It was only a few thrusts later that Greg was finishing in his lover, collapsing over his back in a breathless heap as he tried to catch his breath. 

            “Christ, My. I love you so damn much, but God, I have to sit before I fall over,” He admitted with a weak laugh, gingerly pulling out from Mycroft and at least pulling his boxers up before rounding the front of the sofa and collapsing onto the cushions. Holding out an arm to invite the other man to sit with him, it was only after they had both come down from their high that Greg realised what he had said. “Oh my god, I called you a whore. I’m so sorry love, I didn’t mean it, I swear!” Greg said quickly, burying his face into Mycroft’s neck in embarrassment. “I can’t believe I said that, I’m so, so sorry, it was just in the moment I swear,” He murmured, pretty sure now that all the blood that had just been down in his groin was being redirected to his cheeks. “I’m so sorry, My.” 

            “Gregory, dear, it’s fine. I know a thing or two about getting caught up in the moment.” Greg laughed softly as Mycroft assured him that it was all okay, setting his head on the man’s shoulder as he continued to hold him close. 

            “Love you.” He said after a few minutes, pressing a kiss to Mycroft’s cheek as he sat up. “We should probably get a shower and clean up a bit before your parents get here.” He offered as he stood and held a hand out for Mycroft, wrapping his arms around the man’s hips to hold him close. “Feel better? Less about to wrap yourself around yourself trying to figure out everything, now that we had a little fun?” 

            “Love you too dear. For now, my mind has calmed itself, but I can’t say that once they arrive I won’t be a bundle of nerves once more.” Greg chuckled as he followed Mycroft into the shower, humming a content sigh as he tipped his head forward to allow for the other to wash his hair for him. It was like his own personal massage, wishing he could give an actual massage to Mycroft, though he was sure he would only hurt him if he tried. He had been told before that he was pretty good at should rubs, but that was it. “Don’t worry about them. I’m excited to meet them. You have nothing to worry about.” Greg promised, waiting to wash the suds out of his hair before moving to wash Mycroft’s hair in turn. “It’ll be fine. We will have one last night here, then we’ll have to head back to reality. Let’s enjoy it, okay?” 

            “Well, one night here, then one night in France, then back home. Unless you have changed your mind about me going with you to see your Mémé?"

            “Seeing Mémé in hospital is hardly a holiday.” Greg argued softly, looking back to Mycroft with a tired smile. It wasn’t that he didn’t want him to be there, it was that he was simply worried about his grandmother. Letting it all go for now, he was just glad his parents had convinced her to go to hospital instead of staying home. Getting dressed in a pair of jeans and trying to decide what shirt to wear, Greg grinned when he saw Mycroft in his standard suit and tie. “Going to war with your parents? Help me pick out what I should wear.” 

            “Is there something wrong with me wearing my suit? You are the only one that I really feel comfortable wearing casual clothes around. Anthea and Ryan have seen me in them rarely, but I will admit that I don’t prefer to have them see me like that.” He shook his head in amusement but kept his thoughts to himself about Mycroft’s clothes. It was funny to him that Mycroft felt like he had to protect himself around his parents, when he was the exact opposite. He used to talk with his parents all the time when he was younger, and even now he could easily spend hours talking with them, even though he didn’t call that often anymore. Same with his Mémé, even though it had always been a bit trickier since he had felt he needed to keep his sexuality in check around her. It would certainly be an adventure this time around with his visit. “The blue and white plaid shirt, dear.” Nodding in agreement with the shirt Mycroft picked out, Greg quickly slipped into it before doing the buttons up and tucking it in. 

            “And, for the record, the only thing wrong with you wearing your suit is that there’s always a part of me that wants to lead you around by your tie.” 

            “Well my dear, maybe if all goes well tonight, I might let you play into that fantasy. As of right now though, we need to get dinner started. Mummy and father will be here soon and we wouldn’t want to keep them waiting.” Mycroft leaned in and gave him a chaste kiss before moving towards the kitchen. Greg always felt at home cooking with Mycroft, easily directing him with tasks as he put everything else together. Setting the pan in the oven to cook, Greg set about cleaning up the scraps in the kitchen and thinking of what he could throw together for a dessert when he was distracted by Mycroft’s almost nervous call for him. “Gregory, they’re here…” 

            “My, they’re  _ your  _ parents, you don’t have to be scared of them,” He chuckled, giving a long, sweet kiss to his partner before heading to the gate and taking his hand. 

*****

            Violet stood outside the gate, Siger fussing with his shirt as she brushed his hands away and muttered under her breath. When the door opened, she looked up to see her son and Gregory.

            “Mycie, Gregory, oh darlings how wonderful it is to see you.” Her voice echoed through the atrium as she stepped forward, wrapping her arms around her son and kissing his cheek before stepping in front of the other. Looking him over, she was not sure what she expected Gregory to look like this time, but he sure was handsome. Bringing her hands up to cup his face, she smiled and sighed. “My dear, it has been too long, and you have the same sweet smile as always.” 

            “You’ll have to forgive me for not quite remembering everything just yet,” Gregory leaned down to hug her, giving her a soft squeeze before pulling back. Siger just waited till Violet had said her hellos before he stepped in to greet his son, and then shaking Gregory’s hand. “And you must be Siger, nice to meet you both, again, ish…” 

            “Well, mother, father, you both know your way around. I have set up a room for you, please, put your stuff down and we will join you shortly,” Siger grabbed the small bag they had and moved with Violet over to the guest room, setting their stuff down and then moving over to the kitchen, his wife making herself useful and starting to grab everything they would need to set the tables. It wasn’t long before Mycroft and Gregory were with them in the kitchen, pulling dinner out of the cooker and chatting amongst themselves as Violet finished with the table. It wasn’t until they heard Mycroft’s panicked voice that they both rushed over to the kitchen, worried something was terribly wrong. 

            “Mother, father…” 

            “Mycie, what’s wrong?” Violet called from behind him, walking into the kitchen and looking between the two of them. 

            “Gregory was gone for a moment, he didn’t hear me, couldn’t move, and now his nose is bleeding..” Siger glanced between his family and Gregory before clearing his throat and crossing the room to rest his hand on the man’s wrist where it was holding the rag to his mouth. 

            “It comes from a change of blood pressure. Did you have an intense memory?” He asked, smiling gently to Gregory when he nodded, squeezing his eyes shut and leaning his head back. “Don’t fight when they happen. Just... sit back and watch it like a film. Just breathe right now, you’ll be alright, lad.” Siger promised with another pat on his shoulder, looking over to his son with a quick nod. “It’s the far less glamourous part of gaining back your memories. It’s miserable, but he’ll be alright. For as much as I know it’s not like you, Myc, don’t worry. Sometimes I’m amazed you don’t get nosebleeds from your job as well.” 

           “What if something like this happens to him while he’s driving, or at work? He didn’t seem to be able to stand too well, he was starting to sway. I don’t want him to get in an accident, or a criminal then having the opportunity to shoot him.” 

           “They always have a trigger,” Gregory spoke up, his voice a bit muffled from the cloth and from the fact that he was pinching his nose. “And I have my team with me at scenes, they’ll watch my back.” He said with a nod, Siger chuckling as he shook his head and went back to Violet’s side, nodding to his son to listen. 

           “My boy, relax. Of course he’s going to have memories when you bring him back to your home. With luck, there won’t be an arrest that matches anything from his past that’s important enough to cause another memory. That would be quite something.” Siger pointed out, resting his hand against Violet’s back, hoping to keep her from fussing too much over everything. 

           “It wasn’t a bad memory, just... Another time we had all been together like this. Germany, I think. You were housing me after my home had burned down.” 

           “Yes, a rather unfortunate accident,” Mycroft walked over to Gregory’s side, and handed him a few tissues before moving to clean the rag. “Well, I guess as long as there isn’t a fire in London, or Jack the Ripper copy case, you shouldn’t be struck by a memory. We haven’t been in London long, and there aren’t too many things that you haven’t already been doing that I could imagine would soon cause a memory to come back. Well I think dinner is ready, and maybe it would be good for you to sit dear,” 

           “I promise you, I didn’t mean to make this meeting quite as exciting as I have. It was a memory of a family dinner, but Sherlock was there too, with one of his dogs. It was quite happy.” 

           “Don’t apologise, Gregory. We’re just glad you’re alright now. Gave Mycie a fright there,” Violet waved away his concerns as she started to portion out the meal for everything, batting away Gregory’s hands when he tried to help and giving him a look that quickly had him back in his seat. “Everyone remembers a little bit differently, but sometimes things like this happen now and again. Let’s move along and tell us all about your holiday. What have you seen, done, and please tell me Mycie’s been good and let you be a proper tourist and not take you here only to tuck you away in a library or office all day,” She tutted, Gregory laughing softly as he smiled fondly over at Mycroft. 

            “I assure you, he’s been wonderful. Taken me to see all the major sites and some absolutely fantastic meals as well.” 

             “I wouldn’t lock him away in an office or Library mother. Just because I went and spent most of my time in Egypt in the Library of Alexandria, doesn’t mean that Gregory did as well. In fact, you know that he went out and spent time with the locals and seeing the pyramids and the valley of the kings!” Mycroft scoffed. “The first day we went back to his old stomping grounds at the Colosseum, then we went to the forum, which I might add, was his idea. We also toured the museum, his idea as well. The second day we went to the Pantheon and the bath house, third day was Tivoli gardens, and yesterday we toured the Vatican together.” The conversation flowed after that, Violet excitedly chattering away about the different pieces of art in the museums, and how wonderful it was to have them preserved as they had been when they had first seen them. Siger was content to listen and refill his wife’s wine glass now and again, even stealing a bite or two of her meal when it was clear she wasn’t going to finish it herself at the rate she was going. 

            “I really think this is your last one around, Mycroft,” Siger said softly as he leaned across the table to speak with his son, realising good and well that they weren’t needed in the other conversation that had taken over dinner. “I know it worried you earlier when he was hit by such a strong memory, but the same happened to me a few times when I stayed with your Mummy. I’m happy for you lad. I know how long you’ve waited for him.” Mycroft’s expression softened as he reached out and took his father’s hand. 

            “Thank you father. I’ve heard that said a lot this time around, but hearing it from you as well, I think I can actually let myself believe it this time.” Siger gave him a curt nod and squeezed his hand before pulling back, pouring another glass of wine for all those at the table. 

            “Mycie, what do you think?” Violet’s voice rang, drawing their attention back to the other conversation. 

             “I’m sorry mother, think about what?”  Both Gregory and Violet chuckled as they looked to one another, obviously laughing about something they had been chatting on about. 

            “Point proved. Don’t worry My, it’s nothing bad. Do you want to move to the atrium? It’s a nice evening, and I don’t want to turn in just yet for the night.” 

             “Yes, that would be lovely, shall we all have a nice dip in the pool? Clothes on though, as far as we are all comfortable being Roman, I wouldn’t want to scar Gregory for life now,” Siger had to chuckle when he saw the look on Gregory’s face, standing and helping clear the dinner table. 

             “Are you calling your mother old?” Violet teased, taking some of the dishes as Siger offered them to her. 

             “Well technically…” Gregory started with an amused smirk, earning him a backhanded slap to the shoulder as they all laughed and cleaned up. 

*****

             When it was just the two of them alone, Mycroft pulled the other close and wrapped his arms around his waist. 

             “Love, I just want to apologise for earlier, I didn’t mean to ignore you. I didn’t want to interrupt as you and my mother seemed to be hitting it off really well. I do want to tell you though, my father said something special to me,” He paused, looking down at the other, his heart still tender from that moment. “He told me that he thinks this will be our last time around, that he’s almost positive of it. He said that he had moments, just like you’ve been having, right before he stayed with my mother.” There was a bit more to it than that, but the last bit was something that was to be kept between his father and him, a sentimental moment that would mean more to him than anything else his father could say. Gregory smiled up at him, his hands on his chest, and for a few moments was silent before he stood taller and pressed a kiss to his lips. Mycroft hummed as the other turned it into something deep and passionate, his chest fluttering as the other pulled back. Whenever either of them couldn’t find the words to express what they wanted to say, this was their way of telling the other how much it meant to them. Mycroft was never physically intimate, he didn’t even show affection for his family too often. The only people in his life that he felt comfortable showing any soft of affection for was Anthea, with small hugs and kisses on the cheek, and Gregory, which was a more complete and intimate sort of affection. “Everyone has been saying it to me, and I think I am finally allowing myself to believe it too. My father wouldn’t mention it if he truly didn’t believe that you would stay. He knows how much you mean to me, and how long I have waited for you.” They held on just a little bit longer before changing into their suits and heading back to the atrium. Walking out, Mycroft couldn’t help but chuckle when he saw the slight colour in Gregory’s cheeks as, no doubt, he was remembering their activities in the pool from a couple nights ago. Slipping under the water, he settled back, leaning against the warmed tiles. 

             “This is one of those times I regret that I have to return to my job at the start of the week. What did you two used to do, or still do? While I have memories here and there, they are usually more scene than full memories that are useful in any way.” 

             “Well my dear, we have done a myriad of different things, depending on the times and what was available. We are trained in all different fields, but I think my favourite has always been to teach history in schools. I always seem to get in a bit of trouble though when I would stray from the textbooks and tell the true side of history. Siger here was always more of a maths sort of man, delving into engineering and whatnot. He’s also quite the businessman too.” She said proudly, placing her hand on her husbands knee and smiling to him. 

             “Mycroft was doing that the entire time we were at any of the major sites, whispering in my ear all the corrections he had about whatever the poor tour guide was telling us. I threatened to smack him if he did it while we were at the Vatican,” Gregory laughed, squeezing his hand and giving him an amused look. 

             “Yes well, when they were making absolutely egregious mistakes, I couldn’t just let you go on thinking that was true. You will find out soon enough for yourself when you remember the reality, so why not make a point of telling you now?” Mycroft quipped. Gregory rolled his eyes and chuckled as he turned back towards his parents. 

             “My dad’s a businessman as well. I can only imagine what it’s like from your point of view though, with engineering as different materials and practices came in and out of existence.” 

             “It has been… different. At first it took some getting used to, learning all the materials, and acclimating to change, but now it all just blurs together. It’s nice when something better comes along, and I like to be on that frontier, but to be honest, until recently, most things changed slowly over time. It wasn’t until the past couple hundred years that things are really speeding up in a sense. There are still points of architecture from older time periods that I like to use, just modified. I think people get caught up in the new that they forget that the older techniques were really innovative and… sturdy I guess is a good word.” 

            “That’s what I love about older cities like London and Rome. You get to see what’s continued to work with only a few patches here and there, or after stripping lead pipes but that’s a different story,” Gregory said with a laugh. “Mycroft was teasing me the whole time we were at Tivoli because I was excited about the fountains there.” 

             “Well now, Mycroft,” Siger glanced his way, giving him a gentle stare. “Just because you remember all of these fact and keep them stored in the that immense memory of yours, doesn’t mean that he can’t get excited about ancient architecture.” 

             “I was not teasing you, just merely stating that you have a habit of looking up all of this information before we go anywhere, and I think it’s rather adorable.” Mycroft stated, noting the glare that he received from calling Gregory adorable. “I just admire how excited you get about all of our adventures and about the different places we can and will go to, that’s all love,” He wrapped an arm around Gregory’s shoulder, pulling him close and placing a kiss on the man’s temple. 

             “Aw, it just warms my heart to see you both together again, and to see my baby boy so happy and affectionate towards you,” Violet cooed, giving them a sappy smile as she looked between them. 

             “Mother, please. Keep that up and I won’t invite you over again for dinner,” Mycroft threatened, but there were no real actions behind his words. He couldn’t help but glare when he heard Gregory snorted a laugh at Violets pet names. 

             “My mum always said that no matter how old I am, she’ll always call me her baby, but I always assumed that had an expiration date after the first thousand years,” Gregory laughed again, splashing him with a bit of water when he scoffed. 

             “Nonsense. A thousand years or not, him and Sherl will always be my baby boys. I raised them and changed their nappies, and taught them everything I know. So even though they are grown now, I will always see them as those cute little boys of mine playing in the atrium while I cooked dinner.” Violet smiled. 

             “Yes, well.. As far as the affection goes, I think he knows he’s still in debt for tricking me into meeting the Queen. Nearly gave me a heart attack, even if she is a sweet old lady. I only know there’s eventually going to be more to come. He’s trying to build up a bank of brownie points for later.” Gregory laughed playfully, nuding his side to make sure he knew it was a joke. 

               “Mycie! You tricked poor Gregory into meeting Lizzy?” Violet feigned surprised, looking to him in mock horror. 

             “Yes, well, if I had told him that we were going to meet her, he wouldn’t have shown. He had no reason to be nervous, and he knows that now. Quite honestly, the two of them got on far better than he had ever expected, and to my worry, much like that had been before. The two of them are already thick as thieves, as if no time had passed at all.” Mycroft made a very pointed statement, looking down at Gregory with a raised brow and smiling, knowing there was no way the other could deny it. “Don’t let him fool you either, I know she has had lunch dates with him here and there. That wasn’t the only time they met.” Gregory might not have known he knew of those, but what with his security detail, Mycroft always had an eye on the other for safety reasons. 

              “Yes, well I have seen her three times for tea. You make it sound like I’m going over every week to catch up about the latest footie matches or what have you. Which, she doesn’t follow, though it’s not for a lack of trying.” Teaching the queen about football? Now that was something he hadn’t heard just yet. “Usually we just go out into the garden and I’ll play with the dogs while we chat. One of these days I’ll convince you to get a pet.” Mycroft chuckled and shook his head at the mention of getting a pet. 

               “Good luck on that front my dear. It is an argument we have been having for centuries now,” The conversation flowed from there, Gregory mostly asking his parents different questions, and his father surprisingly opening up a lot more than he had expected. When it was starting to get late, they decided it was time to get out of the pool and back into warmer clothes. “I’m sorry we couldn’t make this last longer, but we are flying out tomorrow morning to go to Nice. Gregory’s family is there.” Mycroft smiled, leaning down to give his mother a quick kiss on the cheek as they walked them to the car waiting out front. While Gregory was saying goodbye to his mother, he stepped closer to his father. “Thank you, for what you said tonight. It means a lot to me.” His voice was soft, again not wanting to draw attention to himself. Siger just smiled and nodded, pulling his son into a brief hug.

               “I’m happy for you son. You deserve this,” Those words stuck with him as his father pulled away and turned to say goodbye to Gregory, a smile on Mycroft’s lips as he watched them walk away. 

               “I think it’s fair to say that went well,” Gregory said softly as they waved their goodbyes and the car pulled away, leaving them along for their last night in Rome. “Though you and Sherlock are very different from your parents.” 

                “Yes, we are. Most think that we had very unkind, unloving parents to turn out the way that we are, but it’s actually quite the opposite. My poor parents had to have the misfortune of having two very  _ different _ sorts of children, and they did the best that they could in raising us.” Mycroft smiled, finally closing the gate and walking back towards their bedroom, ready to get under the warm covers. Turning on the bedside lamp, he pulled back the duvet and invited the other to join him, waiting as the man found a comfortable position by his side before turning off the lights. “Thank you my dear, for helping me through tonight. I only hope that I can be your strength tomorrow when we visit with your  Mémé." Mycroft kissed the top of Gregory’s head as he closed his eyes, starting to drift off already. “Good night love.” 


	22. XXI

          Greg didn’t slept very well that night in comparison to the last week, his mind racing with thoughts of Mycroft meeting his family and seeing how his Mémé was doing. While he had slowly introduced the idea of him now living with a man after his breakup with Caroline, they still thought he was only living estranged from his wife and not that he had filed for divorce, though blessedly they were on his side no matter what. Still, it would be the first time he would be introducing them to his boyfriend, which he was sure would always be awkward, no matter if he was nineteen or forty nine. 

          “Gregory, my dear, good morning. Time to leave for France,” Mycroft’s voice was soft as he brushed his fingers over Greg’s cheeks, trying to wake him. Groaning, he took a minute to actually blink himself awake, offering a slight smile that was quickly cut off by a wide yawn before he pushed himself up on his elbow. 

           “Right… right. Here’s to hoping after I see Mémé I’ll be able to relax and get a decent nights sleep before we go back to work.” 

           “You know I only book the best accommodations I can find, so I am sure the bed will be to your standards. Which, now that I say that out loud, I realise that you sleep wherever, so the standards aren’t too high…” Greg gave a swat to Mycroft’s shoulder as he dropped onto his back again with a groan, rubbing his face as he struggled to wake up. “Will you please place the gifts on the table in the dining room along with a note that tells them their paychecks will be delivered by this evening, and to help themselves to any and all food left in the house? I am going to start packing up our things as we have to leave within the next hour to the airport.” Nodding and letting out a sigh, it was a few moments before he got himself dressed and walked to the kitchen, making them toast and coffee as he sorted through the fridge to make sure nothing needed to be tossed. Greg wrote up the note, thanking the staff for making their week run as smoothly as possible, even when he had a few hiccups because of the language barrier on his end. It was clear Mycroft was a wonderful boss to them all, and Greg smiled back when he came over to check on him. “Ready love?”

           “Yeah, I made us some coffee and toast, nothing fancy, but at least it’s something to get us through till lunch.” 

           “Thank you, I think we should do a nice five star restaurant, really have the full ‘French’ experience, if that is alright with you. It’s been too long since I’ve eaten a good french meal, and well, we will be in the right country for it.” They ate their toast and coffee quickly, making their way to the car where their things had already been packed away in the boot and the driver was ready to go. Getting to the airport didn’t take very long, and as before, they got through security no problem and were the first to board. The flight was short, and before they knew it, there was a man waiting with a sign that read ‘Holmes’ on it as they were exiting the gate with their luggage. “I’m so glad Anthea was able to arrange all of this on such short notice. That woman can work miracles.” Greg smiled weakly when Mycroft mentioned Anthea, feeling bad for having changed the plans. He knew Mycroft didn’t mind, especially because he had been worried all yesterday about how his grandmother was doing. She was nearly ninety seven, so of course it was to be expected that her health would eventually start to fail, but that certainly didn’t make things any easier. Simply unable to bring himself to be as talkative as he normally was, Greg slipped into the car and pulled up the address for the hospital where his Mémé was staying. All he could really hope for was that Mycroft would understand that his nerves were getting the best of him at the moment, and it wasn’t anything personal when he wasn’t being very social. Rubbing his face and thanking the driver once they arrived, Greg easily slipped into French as he spoke with the nurse at the front desk. Taking a deep breath and Mycroft’s hand, they walked down the hall and stopped in front of the room, Greg leaning over to quickly kiss Mycroft before stepping in and smiling faintly at the three people looking back at him, or more, over his shoulder to his partner to be exact. 

           “Hey mum, dad. Bonjour Mémé.” He greeted them softly, letting go of Mycroft’s hand and greeting his parents each with a quick hug before going over and kissing his grandmother’s cheek. “This is Mycroft, my um… my boyfriend.” 

           “Pleased to meet you all. I’m sorry it couldn’t be under better circumstances. Madame, enchanté,” Mycroft turned towards Mémé and gave her a slight nod and a polite smile. 

            “It’s so nice to finally meet you Mycroft,” His mother smiled, moving to give Mycroft a quick hug before pulling back to look up at him. “Thank you for helping our boy, he seems happier now than he has in a long time,” It wasn’t a secret that Greg was doing better now that he was in a healthy relationship and his family was just glad that he was happy now instead of trying to force himself through everything with Caroline. 

           “Well, you have raised a great man, he really is something else. He’s a true gentleman, and I am lucky to have met him,” Blushing at the praise he got from both his parents and Mycroft, Greg almost yelped at the sharp jab he got in his side from his grandmother, demanding that he introduce everyone.

           “Yes, Mémé, I’m sorry. Mycroft, this is André and Marissa, my parents, and this is Mémé Isobel, my dad’s mum.” Greg introduced everyone in French out of habit when he was with his grandmother. 

           “Does he speak French?” Isobel asked as she adjusted her blankets and the tube tucked under her nose while giving the man a thorough once over. Greg chuckled and nodded. 

           “Yes Mémé, he speaks French and a couple of other languages as well,” He assured her, wondering just what she had in mind as Mémé had used Caroline’s inability to understand the language to talk about her before. 

            “Hm, good. He’s who you left that bitch for, then?” 

            “Mémé!” Greg gasped as his eyes went wide, his face heating even more as he hid behind his hands, his grandmother simply laughing in the joy that old age brought with not needing to worry about what you said. 

            “He’s certainly handsome. You could have picked worse, that’s for certain. You know, I had a girlfriend once, long ago, when I was still in school and before I married your grandfather,” 

            “Mum, please,” André chimed in this time, offering an apologetic smile to Mycroft even as the old woman waved him off. 

            “All I mean is that you all think I care and I don’t. I just want my grandson happy, and that little whore you had married didn’t do it, so I’m expecting you to make up for that, understand boy?” Isobel said, jabbing a finger in Mycroft’s direction as Greg cleared his throat awkwardly. 

            “Mémé, I know you don’t like Caroline, I don’t either, but please… stop calling her names. It’s done, Mycroft and I are happy. There’s nothing for you to worry about except getting better, okay?” 

            “Do not worry Madame. I plan to take very good care of Gregory, and will do everything I possible can to make him happy,” Mycroft responded in perfect french, using the most formal phrasing so he wouldn’t offend her. “I know it has only been a year since we have been together officially,” He paused, looking over to Greg with a knowing glance, “But I feel as if I have known him long and I love him so very much. He is my light and my life. I may sound like a hopeless romantic, but I mean every word of it.” After that, everyone seemed to relax, Greg’s parents giving small smiles to each other. Greg felt himself finally start to relax as the conversation drifted away from Caroline and onto stories of growing up and what his parents did, Mémé still chiming in now and again but luckily she toned it down a bit more. Ending their visit with a rather humiliating story about how Greg had convinced himself that he was going to run away and live with the circus when he was ten, Mycroft finally stood up and looked to all of them. “Well, Gregory, it is lunch time, and it looks like we have tired Mémé out with all our chatting. If you don’t mind, may I treat you both to lunch?” Greg shook his head as he stood from his chair to say his goodbyes to his grandmother and promising to call while his parents sorted out lunch with Mycroft in the hall. 

            “Keep that Mycroft, Gregory,” Mémé murmured as she settled back against her pillow, chuckling at the blush that coloured his cheeks. “I would always tell your parents that you were an old soul, even as a little boy running about in the streets playing pretend with the neighborhood kids.You’ve finally found one that matches in him. You always fight for him, like your parents fought for each other, no matter how hard it gets, you understand?” 

            “Yes Mémé. I love him more now than I think I ever loved Caroline.” Greg admitted softly, leaning down once more to press a kiss to her cheek. “I’ll talk to you soon. Take care of yourself and do as the doctors tell you, deal?” He challenged with a gentle laugh, grinning when she grumbled and waved him out, arguing that she needed her beauty rest. Pulling his coat on as the door closed behind him, Greg smiled over to his parents and Mycroft as he took his partner’s hand. “So, where are we going for lunch then?” 

            “Well, as much as your parents have protested, I have finally convinced them to let me take you all to Le Sejour Café. I have heard such amazing things about it, and am dying to try some of their cuisine.” Mycroft smiled as they walked towards the lifts. 

            “Are you sure we cannot sway you? That restaurant is incredibly expensive and we would feel bad,” Mycroft held up a hand and raised a brow before turning to look at him. 

            “Would you please assure your parents that money is not something that worries me, and I had already stated to you when we left Rome that I wanted to eat at a five star restaurant when we came here?” Greg sighed as Mycroft and his father semi argued over their lunch. Privately, he had been hoping for a lunch out at a simple cafe nearby and their dinner could be an event just the two of them, but he knew better than to try and change Mycroft’s mind now. 

            “Mum, dad, I know, but Mycroft really does mean it when he says it’s not a big deal for him to pay. His ‘minor position’ in the government doesn’t even have a title and allows him social visits with the Queen. It still catches me off guard now and again, but please, let him treat you to lunch?” He asked, offering them a half pleading smile for them to accept the offer. 

            “We’re not dressed for it,” Marissa pointed out softly as they all climbed into the waiting car, Greg chuckling as he looked down at himself as well. 

             “Honestly? None of us but Mycroft are, but the crazy thing I’ve noticed is that the people who frequent these sorts of restaurants tend to be dressed like this too. Mycroft used to spring this on me a lot when we first started dating, used to terrify me.” He assured his mother gently as they made their way, his parents still not looking convinced but at least they weren’t arguing anymore. “How about this, let Mycroft treat you to lunch, and you can treat us to coffee and cake for dessert afterwards at the cafe you used to take me to in the summer. Is it still there?” 

            “It is, your mum and I stopped by after we landed for a quick breakfast before meeting Mémé.” André said with a nod, their agreement at least placating his parents enough to let them relax. Mycroft started to look worried and Greg quickly took his hand, giving it a small squeeze. When they arrived at the restaurant, they secured a table quickly and Mycroft ordered wine and a few appetizers before anyone could protest. 

            “If I order the Risotto Homard Frais and the Tartare Boeuf, will you share that with me dear? I don’t think I will be able to finish it all by myself. Not to mention, I think it will go beautifully with the bottle of Loire et Bourgogne that I ordered,” Greg could tell that his parents were uncomfortable with the restaurant, sure that there would be talks on both sides about money and such. “Please, do not order the cheapest thing on the menu because you feel bad about ordering something else due to price. Get what you like, the cost is of no importance to me. We saved a fortune during this last week in Rome because Gregory is such an amazing chef, so I think it will be nice to treat everyone to a delicious lunch.” Humming softly in agreement, Greg smiled when his parents settled on their meals and he agreed to split with Mycroft. The price was still hard to swallow, but they wanted their son to be happy and not to be rude to Mycroft with his offer. After a few moments the appetizers came and the server poured their wine, everyone looking at the treats that were placed before them. “Delicious! I hope everyone likes truffles. I ordered the Brouillade de Truffe for everyone to split.” Settling back into a bit more of a relaxed conversation, everything seemed to settle helped by the fantastic bottle of wine Mycroft had selected for them. They talked their way through lunch about different placed Mycroft had visited, both with his job and slightly more vague as he talked about where he had lived. They were all quite fascinated, Greg included, and André was quick to talk about how it had been his dream to travel. 

            “Greg would spend hours reading every one of the placards about the different piece there,” Marissa laughed as they talked about bringing Greg to museums when he was younger and they had been able to travel a bit. “We would always laugh because we were the ones asking Greg to hurry up, when it’s usually the kids asking the parents to do so. I’m sure he talked your ear off about the different details of the buildings in Rome while you were there.” 

            “Gregory, reading up on all of the history and then spending countless hours talking about it and marveling over every last detail? I’m not sure why anyone would get that impression from him,” Greg laughed at the easy teasing both from his parents and Mycroft, shaking his head as he sipped at his wine after leaning into the quick kiss on his cheek. He could tell such little signs of affection made his parents happy, even though they weren’t the ones to show affection in public besides holding hands or linking arms. “It really is nice to hear all that Gregory has to say, and watch him get excited over such things. When I travel, it’s for work, and it’s never very much fun. I usually spend most of my time in an office or the hotel room, so to go out and see sights with him, it’s refreshing. Speaking of sight seeing, I do believe there were a few around here that he wanted to show me from his childhood.” 

           “I want to show you Mémé’s home and where we used to have picnics in the summer. I know there’s plenty of other historical places here, but it’s a bit more personal.” Greg said with a shrug, but it was an honest statement. He was sure that Mycroft would want to show him around to where they used to live as well, but this was a bit more current to him. 

           “That sounds perfect dear,” Mycroft smiled, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “So tell me more about this cafe you mentioned earlier, for deserts,” Greg watched as Mycroft discretely handed his card off to the server, quickly turning his attention back to his parents. 

          “They have wonderful macaroons,” Marissa said with a smile, gathering her coat and purse as they all stood once Mycroft got his card back. 

          “And very good coffee.” André added once they were back out on the sidewalk, glancing hesitantly towards the car that silently pulled up behind them without even being called. “It’s only a few blocks away from here, if you’d like to walk,” He offered, Greg glancing over at Mycroft before nodding in agreement. The weather was beautiful and even though they had been all around Rome the last few days, it was different to stroll along the roads he could honestly call home. “Greg and I would walk down to the shop every Sunday after church with my mother. It’s quite simple, but sometimes that’s the best even after such a fancy lunch as you’ve so kindly hosted for us.” 

          “I do apologise. I don’t mind walking, actually I find it relaxing. My security team doesn’t seem to like to leave my side for very long, and I have just learned to ignore them and forget they are there. I didn’t realise they were following us. Unfortunately for me, it’s part of the job… needing security that is,” Mycroft smiled. “Well I do hope that you enjoyed the food, and I look forward to the cafe and a nice cup of coffee.” It didn’t take them long to reach the cafe, and Mycroft held the door open for all of them, Greg going in after his parents and faltering a bit when Mycroft held him back for a moment, sighing with a gentle smile as he leaned up to kiss the other’s cheek. “Dear, as much as I wish to indulge your parents in sweets, I have already diverged too much from my diet this week, that I’m not sure I can partake in this… I do not wish to offend them though, especially as this is placating them for me paying.” 

          “We shared a large meal, we can always get a few things to take back with us and you can give them to Anthea later, if you don’t want them for yourself.” He offered, figuring that would be an easy excuse for all of them without upsetting his parents. Humming at the smell of coffee and baked sweets once they were in and had caught up with his parents, Greg’s eyes danced over the case filled with treats. “Honestly, I think I’m just going to have a sugar crepe. I used to get them all the time when I was younger.” Greg said with a smile, André chuckling as he reached out and scrubbed a hand through his son’s hair. 

          “You loved them when we would come for winter holiday and would dunk it in your hot chocolate,” He grinned, ordering a raspberry almond tart for himself and Marrissa to share along with Greg’s crepe before looking over to Mycroft. “What would you like, my boy?” 

           “Um, well, whatever you think is best, I will have that, but to go if that is alright. I am still rather full from our lunch, but I will enjoy it later,” 

           “Well, Greg, what do you think Mycroft would like best? I don’t want to choose for him, you know him better,” André smiled, looking over to his son as the server started to plate the other sweets his family had ordered. Greg smiled faintly to Mycroft before stepping forward, picking out a few flavours that he knew Anthea would enjoy. Murmuring softly to his dad not to worry about Mycroft’s hesitancy with his offer, he quickly added two cups of coffee for them to share so that Mycroft would have something while everyone else ate. While they never much talked about the man’s insecurities about his weight and Greg tried to do his best to help Mycroft on whatever diet he was using, he felt the man worried far too much. 

            “Thank you dad,” Greg said once they had paid and had settled around one of the street tables. “My and I will have to come over for an actual visit some time once Mémé’s better. It’s not the best chance for everyone to meet like this, but I’m glad it worked out to be able to at least stop by and see her.” 

            “It would be lovely to see you both under better circumstances.” Mycroft added, smiling over to his parents. “Gregory speaks so highly of you, and I can see why. From this short time I’ve had with you all, I can see how truly amazing you are, and where Gregory gets all his brilliant traits from.” Greg shook his head as he felt his cheeks warm when Mycroft praised his parents, André and Marissa chuckling at his son’s reaction. 

            “We certainly like this one. Is he always this easy on the praise?” Marissa asked with a laugh, nudging her son’s foot under the table with her own. 

            “You say it like it’s a bad thing.” Greg rolled his eyes, throwing a tiny bit of his food at his mother like a child as they fell into an easy laugh. It was stupid, yes, but it was how they always were with one another, no matter how old he got. While Siger and Violet had been so kind and open with him, it didn’t change the fact that he never had been able to fully relax like he could with his own parents with them. 

            “Oh, never, actually. I only give praise when I see fit. Otherwise, I actually have a nickname at work, one that some of the employees have given me, and not of my own choosing. They call me the Iceman. I never quite understood why, as I treat my employees with the utmost respect and care, but I think it comes from how I handle other politicians or those who I think do not deserve the respect they demand. The two of you on the other hand, have raised such an amazing, caring, kind, intelligent and patient man, who has and always will be the light of my life, and only someone really special could do that. I’ve met a lot of people, and it only happens once in a very great while that someone can raise a man as fantastic and brilliant as your son. I could sing praise all day, but then, it would lose its meaning. I only wish you to believe that I truly mean every word I say, and I’m not just trying to butter you both up.” Greg continued to blush even more, his dad chuckling as he sat up and reached over to pat his son’s hand. 

            “So, when are the two of you getting married?” André asked, though they all faltered as they realised just what a question that was. 

           “I um… I mean, we want to. Just… Caroline hasn’t exactly let things process through,” Greg sighed, looking down at his mostly finished crepe and picking at the last few bites as he blindly reached out to squeeze Mycroft’s hand in his. 

           “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it. You know we love you and only want you to be happy.” André apologised softly, running his hand through his hair the same way Greg often did when he didn’t know what else to do with a matching sigh. “And for the record Mycroft, I can say for certain for both myself and Marissa, we don’t think you are an ‘Iceman’. You’ve been nearly too giving with us already, even if you speak very formally and call our son the same as my mother calls him,” André said with a faint smile. 

           “Dad, it’s fine. Really. My and I are open with each other about all of this. It’s awkward, but it’s okay. Really.” 

           “Well, I’m glad that I have made a good impression then,” Mycroft coughed, covering his mouth with his napkin. “If it comes to it, and one of us proposes to the other before things have… cleared up, well that is where my position in the government can come in handy. As for right now though, we have discussed the possibilities and we are content to wait for the time being. With that said though, I have no intention of letting him go. Gregory, well, he will always be mine, heart and soul, and the  _ only  _ one that I want to spend the rest of my life with,” Mycroft looked to him and raised his hand to his lips, kissing his knuckles. 

            “Mycroft,” Greg murmured, wanting desperately to drop the conversation completely even though he knew the other was just trying to help. Seeing her son starting to close up in front of them, Marissa cleared her throat before speaking up. 

           “Greg, sweetie, don’t worry. You have each other and that’s all that matters.” She assured him, waving off André and Mycroft when they went to speak again. “No more of that. It’s been years since we’ve been back here, and I won’t let you bring yourself down about something that’s nothing to worry about from the start. Now finish your treat and go have fun exploring the city. Maybe you can come visit us for the summer and walk along the beach with us.” Marissa said, giving a quick look to Greg, pointing out that she wasn’t to be argued with. Smiling faintly and pressing a quick kiss to both his parents cheeks as they all made their goodbyes, Greg waited until they had gone out of sight to tug Mycroft over to his side. 

          “My, what… what are we going to do if Caroline won’t sign? Or drags everything out as much as possible?” 

          “Gregory, love, it’s fine. You have done all that you can to get through to Caroline, and no matter how long she decides to draw this out, if we decide that we want to be married sooner, I have ways of forcing the paperwork through. I am not saying that is what I am going to do, I would never without your consent, but I am saying that it is an option. In my mind, we have always been married and always will be. I am yours forever and you know that.” Mycroft stopped, bringing his hands up to cup his cheeks. “Don’t worry about it love.” 

           “It’s not…” Greg sighed, wanting to argue that none of it was fine or okay, but there was really no reason to try and fight Mycroft on this. Leaning heavily against his shoulder, Greg wrapped his arms around the man’s waist. He wanted to trust Mycroft, of course he did, and of course he was glad that they would always be one another’s no matter what, but it still hurt that he was married to a woman he didn’t want to be connected to anymore. He had contacted Caroline’s sister a few times to ask her about sorting out their divorce, but every time he did, nothing but a new wave of frustration came from it. “Sorry… come on, I do still want to show you where my Mémé lives.” 

           “I know love. There are parts of this that are not okay, but you have done what you can. Unless you want me to force this through, we will just have to wait it out. Please my heart, do not feel bad about the situation and try not to dwell on this. I am happy to be with you and as far as I am concerned, you are no longer connected to her. You have physically, mentally and legally signed away all connections with her.” Mycroft paused and kissed the top of his head as Greg let out another sigh. “I want to see all of it with you, and after that if you wish, I would like to bring you to our home and where we first met in Nice.” Greg wanted desperately to believe Mycroft, knowing that he could make all of this disappear in a minute, and while he was thankful for the fact that Mycroft was willing to wait, he was also tempted to ask him to ring up whomever he knew and have his divorce finalised before he could blink. He would probably just feel guilty about it afterwards though, and while one thing would be finished, he would hate himself for going about it in that manner. Relaxing as the other brought his chin up to kiss him, his hand tightened against Mycroft’s hip and he let his thoughts be pushed away. 

          “Thank you.” Greg murmured, stepping back and allowing himself to be lead over to the waiting car to take them out the neighborhood. Giving the driver directions based off landmarks rather than actual road names, he thanked the amused man profusely as they finally made their way to his Mémé’s old home that had been passed down a handful of times throughout the generations. “Here it is. Second floor is hers,” Greg said with a fond smile, looking up at the golden coloured building that stood in front of them with ivy climbing along the face of it. “God, I haven’t been here in… ten, fifteen years? Didn’t realise how much I missed it.” 

           “We can visit more often if you would like. Nice is an easy trip, something we could feasibly do in a weekend if you wanted. I can see why you have fond memories here, it seems that you are very close with your family and it is rather beautiful.” Greg smiled at Mycroft’s offer, leaning slightly into the man’s side as they started slowly walking along the pedestrian road where he used to play footie with whomever was out at the time. 

           “It’s not that I’m not able to afford coming over, it’s more about having the time off. You know just as well as I do that actual weekends are few and far between. I also worry about Mémé thinking she has to entertain me. It’s far easier on my parents to have a surprise visit for the night than it is on her, you know?” He shrugged, pausing at a window that was open and had a cat demanding attention. “I always liked these back streets, it feels like an actual home more than any flat I’ve ever lived in. Not like my childhood was bad, simply that where I grew up, it wasn’t as relaxed as it is here. Then again, I was always on holiday when I was here, so I’m probably biased.” Greg laughed, scratching along the cat’s ears before continuing down the road. “Where was it that we lived? I don’t remember much besides the dream I had about finding Redbeard and meeting you.” 

            “I know, time is always hard to come by, as well as a free moment from work.” Mycroft sighed. “We lived in Cimiez, which is one of the oldest districts in Nice. It’s not too far from here, and if you are up for a walk, we can be there in about a half hour. Otherwise, we can have the driver take us there.” Greg nodded and called for the cat to follow along, figuring it wouldn’t harm anything since it would find it’s way back home no problem. 

            “Walking sounds good. Really good actually.” He said as he linked his arm with Mycroft’s and let himself be led on. The cat amusingly followed along for a few blocks, running ahead and waiting for them to catch up and pet it before running ahead again. It was a nice escape from the busy world that was London. Smiling to himself as the buildings started to become a curious mix of ancient and modern, Greg looked over at Mycroft as he was gently tugged to a stop outside of a building that had clearly been renovated. “We lived here? I’m assuming without the fancy electricity and toilets and all?” Greg asked sarcastically, grinning at the look he received. “You should expect that from me by now. How were you able to keep the property when, I’m assuming, it changed hands?” 

             “It’s never easy, just like keeping my domus in Rome has not been easy. I haven’t held onto many homes, just the ones that were special, the ones that meant the most. Here, Rome and Oia, that’s all. I tried to keep our home in Heidelberg as well, but unfortunately an accident befell that one and it no longer stands. As for the electricity and toilets, what do you mean by fancy. Are you wondering if we ate dinner by candlelight and used an outhouse, most things would seem far more fancy than that,” Mycroft chuckled, walking up to the stoop to unlock the door. “How about you go inside and see. It has been renovated, to keep up with the times, but the structure and bones are still the same, as well as a lot of the furniture, just… revitalised with a little help.” Greg laughed as he stepped inside, trailing his fingers lightly along the clearly older walls as they made their way into the main room. It was a generally open floor plan, the wood floors Greg could only assume had been updated with time as well, though they were still clearly very old. There was a balcony that looked out towards the coast, as well as a kitchen that was quite nice, though he had to admit that he liked the one he had in London and Rome more. 

           “It’s beautiful My. Did we live here multiple times, like Rome?” He asked, looking back at Mycroft before giving into temptation and crossing the room to open the large doors leading out to the balcony. “My Mémé’s flat is nothing like this, but this is very much you.” Greg said with a soft laugh, not minding in any way, just finding it amusing. 

            “No, unfortunately. We’ve lived here only once, well, us. I stayed here a couple times between lives, mostly because we were in Paris three separate times and I much preferred here than the sprawling city.” Mycroft came up behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist, Greg humming softly as he rest one hand over the other’s and the other reaching up to brush gently through the man’s hair. “I just had so many fond memories of us here, that when I was feeling down, I would come and stay here till the next place pulled me away and brought you back to me,” 

             “I’m glad that even one life time was enough to convince you to keep it. I still want you to take me to Oia some day.” He said with a smile, turning his head just enough to press a gentle kiss to Mycroft’s temple. 

            “I would suggest we forget the hotel, but there would be no heat, no water, and no electricity for us here, as I don’t particularly keep those going when I’m not staying.” 

             “Some other time, then. When we both need another escape like we did this week.” Greg added after a minute, chuckling again when the man said they didn’t have any utilities. “What, no camping for you? Or you’ve had enough of that to last you forever?” 

             “Camping is not something that I do, Gregory, and I think that is something you should know, memories or not.” Mycroft pulled back, giving him a playful glare. “Now, just a few blocks away is where we first met, and that damned dog found you. Would you like to go there before we head back to the hotel?” Greg rolled his eyes as Mycroft started complaining about Redbeard, following once more as they walked out and down the street to find where they had first met. He was both relieved and a bit sad that he didn’t have the same deja vu feeling he’d had in Rome as they walked along the streets, but Greg had a feeling it had to do with the fact that he had more or less grown up here so he was far more familiar with everything. He’d had dreams now and again growing up, but they hadn’t made since and he had shrugged it off to his imagination. 

             “You always say how much you dislike that dog, yet it brought us together all those years ago. I think it’s just that you refuse to allow yourself to be in a dog’s debt.” 

             “Not that particular dog, just Sherlock’s string of Redbeards throughout the centuries that were never really his because he had us taking care of them.” Mycroft quickly quipped back as they turned the corner to a small market area. “Here,” The man stopped, right at a corner where the market started and the neighborhood homes ended. “This is where I first met you all those years ago. You were younger, but not quite like Rome, and your smile was just as bright as ever. All my anger at Sherlock for letting the dog out quickly dissipated when I saw you again,” Greg looked around at the intersection, almost sad that there wasn’t anything exciting or different about where they were from any other cross street, but sometimes that was what made it so special. Certainly it was better than the crime scene he had met Sherlock at this time. Returning his attention to Mycroft, he smiled at how happy the man always looked when he was lost in his memories, or at least all the memories he was willing to share. “I can’t explain how happy I was to see you again. I always am, but every time it feels better than the last,” Leaning up on his toes to kiss him on the nose, Greg smirked when Mycroft blinked out of his thoughts and looked back down to him with a slight glare. 

           “I love you. Under all your armour you’re such a softie. It’s so sweet.” 

           “I’m not sure who is starting these vicious rumours about me being a ‘softie’, but I will deny them and take them to my grave,” Mycroft said pointedly, looking down to him with a smirk. “When it happened this time, I felt like my heart had stopped. I heard your voice and almost dropped my phone, thinking I had misheard or I was losing my mind finally after so many years. Each time it comes as a surprise, and it’s overwhelming, like being hit with such a strong force that can knock the wind out of you. I instantly know it’s you, and that you are back, and it takes everything in me to hold back and not rush you into a hug and kiss you till you melt against me like before,” Greg didn’t even try to hide the blush that coloured his cheeks as Mycroft talked about finding each other. He wasn’t sure what he would have done if anyone had just come up and kissed him desperately like he had just described. 

            “If you had done that when we first met this time around, I think I would have arrested you too, thinking you were just as high as Sherlock.” He laughed, easily sliding back into the car when it had pulled up beside them. 

             “Mm, yes, well I did practically push myself on you within a few weeks of meeting you once again, having told you everything because I couldn’t control myself this time around…” Mycroft wrapped an arm around his shoulder as they watched the city pass them by. When they reached the hotel, they settled in and relaxed for a bit, looking over the list of restaurants in the area. “My dear, I’m not sure I want to go back out tonight. Would you mind if we ordered room service for dinner and just stay in? I feel as if we’ve been going and going this past week, and we haven't really had a chance to just sit in and do nothing. Maybe we can do that tonight and tomorrow when we return home, because I have a feeling we will be hitting the ground running when we return to work on Monday.” Greg almost laughed when Mycroft asked if he would mind, figuring that was about a close to ‘camping’ as he would ever get with Mycroft now that modern amenities existed. 

            “That sounds perfect.” He said as he lazily rolled over onto his back, resting his hands over his chest and sighing against the high end down blankets and mattress cover. “I had fun this last week, though. Seeing Rome with you, even if I did have a few headaches from memories, it was worth it to have the time with you. Thought I’m quite sure we both always hit the ground running when we’re going back to work.” 

             “It’s settled then. I will order us a meal, you pick a film. You are correct though, we always hit the ground running.” Mycroft chuckled, moving over to where the phone was and calling down to order up their meal. Mycroft picked up the remote and looked through the options, not really finding anything that particularly stood out to him. “Find anything good dear?” Greg smiled softly as Mycroft came over and brushed over his arms with both his hands and his lips, letting the remote drop as he relaxed under the man’s weight. 

             “Nothing I can imagine you’d pick out to watch, to be honest. Then again, you do have Princess Bride…” He grinned, tipping his head over to lean against Mycroft’s to show he was teasing. “Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter, a few horror movies that I’m telling you right now are a big no, Finding Nemo… which is actually quite adorable and I don’t care that I’m a grown man saying that. My vote’s O Brother, Where Art Thou. I could see you picking that one.” Greg mused, carefully shifting around so that he could stay under Mycroft’s arms, but face him instead of craning his neck around. “What do you think? I don’t mind simply watching some random show on TV and relaxing that way too. I have a feeling I’ll end up falling asleep half way through whatever movie we end up choosing.” 

             “Choose whatever you wish to watch my dear, it does not matter to me. I think you would be surprised by some of the films I have watched and enjoyed in my lifetime.” Greg chuckled as he settled on O Brother, watching as Mycroft slipped off the bed and over to their luggage. “If you don’t mind, I think I would like to spend the rest of the night without my armour on, or so you call it.” Waiting for Mycroft to finish with his shower, Greg changed as well into an evening shirt and boxers for the night, moving to his phone and sending out a few texts to his parents as well as Donovan to make sure he wouldn't be coming back to hell. He was glad to hear that Sherlock had only got into one fight at a scene and besides that, he had only been running havoc with the forensics team, which was to be expected. Staring up at the ceiling, Greg cycled through everything that had happened in the last forty eight hours, between meeting Mycroft’s parents and Mycroft meeting his own, along with Mémé's illness, though it was a relief to know she didn’t care who he was with as long as he was happy. It was still nerve wracking to see her in the hospital connected to an oxygen tank. Then again, Greg knew he was horrible at being patient with this sort of thing. Quickly wrapping himself in a dressing gown enough to cover his boxers, but loose enough to show he was decent when room service arrived, Greg thanked the man as he came in to set their meal to the side for them, giving him a generous tip as he heard the shower cut off. Pouring them both a glass of wine and moving their plates to the night stand, Greg hummed softly as Mycroft settled on the be next to him and leaned into his side. “Perfect timing it would seem. I love you so very much my heart.” 

            “I love you too, My. I’m glad meeting everyone’s parents worked out, even if mine were at a hospital.” Greg murmured, pressing a kiss to Mycroft’s still damp hair. “You have become very affectionate since we’ve been in France, not that I’m complaining.” 

            “Have I? I didn’t realise I had been more affectionate than I have been all week. Unless you are talking about what I said to your parents… I’m sorry if I was a bit over the top with your family today, I just wanted to make sure they knew how special you were to me, and that I will never leave you and always want to see you happy.” Greg laughed softly as he brushed his hand through Mycroft’s wet hair again before pulling him into a gentle kiss. 

             “I know, I was teasing, sweetheart. Like I said, I’m not complaining.” He assured him softly before sitting up and taking his plate into his lap to start on their meal. It did feel funny to be eating a steak dinner from his lap like he would with cereal or leftovers, but at the same time it was a nice break. “My parents adored you. I was texting with them while you were with in the shower, and they felt bad for making it awkward at lunch when they joked about getting married. I know how you feel about us, and… even with all the mess with Caroline, I know I love you and I’m devoted to you. I also know that you feel differently, but sometimes I think I’d rather live like this than with the stress of always calling her up and fighting with her about the divorce. I am happy, and… I’ve been doing some of my own research about all of this too. If I can start to prove that she’s stalling for no other purpose but to be difficult, the court system can continue the divorce because she’s effectively put in no contest, which I think will be in my favour in the long run.” 

             “Well I am glad that your parents approve of me, and they needn’t worry about that comment. I did not feel out of place or taken aback by any of it, actually, I found it quite sweet. I meant what I said before, that I am happy with you and I know that you are doing all that you can to separate yourself from her, so whatever you choose to do, however you plan to proceed, I will support you love.” Greg was infinitely relieved when Mycroft allowed the discussion of his divorce to drift off, both of them relaxing against the pillows once they were done and were left to sipping their wine. Greg knew himself well enough to at least put his wine glass back on the table as he started to feel himself drift off, definitely not wanting to end up with a wet bed because he dropped his drink in his sleep. He continued to fight truly falling asleep for the rest of the movie, waking up now and again from tiny fragments of dreams that didn’t make much sense. 

*****

           Gregory started to doze of throughout the movie, and Mycroft smiled as he watched the man struggle to keep himself awake. When the movie ended, he got up and turned off the lights and the telly, moving to tuck Gregory under the covers before moving back to his side of the bed. Sliding up next to him, he wrapped his arms around the other and gently pulled him to his chest, closing his eyes and trying to let his mind go. He was pulled from his thoughts when he heard Gregory stir, looking down to the other. 

            “I’m sorry I fell asleep on you, My. Is everything alright?” 

            “No dearest, do not apologise, you were exhausted. You need a good night’s sleep after you tossed and turned all yesterday night. Everything is okay, just thinking that is all.” Mycroft didn’t want to worry the other or have him wake back up again, not when he was just getting to sleep. There was plenty on his mind, and most of it was good, thinking back on their holiday. The only thing that kept nagging him was going back to London, back to work. He knew that there would be talk of the network, that he would have to bring himself to think of that again, and after such a worry free week where he didn’t need to constantly watch his back or be concerned with Gregory’s safety, it was something he was dreading going back to. The other could tell he was holding back, but didn’t say anything, instead just moved up to kiss him. Humming contently, Mycroft held the other close, his heart aching as he knew the other could see the worry in his eyes. 

            “Don’t worry about work until you actually have to go back to work, sweetheart. We’ll both have plenty on our plates again once we report back, but as far as I’m concerned, we’re still on holiday for another twenty four hours.” Gregory said with a kind laugh as he looked up to him in the dark, trailing his fingers over his cheek. 

             “I’m sorry dear, I know I shouldn’t be thinking about it, and I’ve been trying to go to sleep, but you know how it is, my thoughts won’t leave me in peace.” Smiling down at the man in his arms, Mycroft leaned into the gentle touch on his cheek before letting himself be pulled in for another sweet kiss. 

             “Mémé had me promise her that I’d always fight for you, and I’m planning on keeping that promise, both here in bed and out in the real world with work and all. Try not to worry about that for a little longer, yeah?” Mycroft’s lips were tugged into a soft smile as he heard about the promise, reaching up to hold the other’s face and rub his thumb over the man’s cheek. 

              “I will try my love,” In all honesty, he would. He didn’t want to have to think about the problems that awaited him back home, or what horrors he would hear when returning to the office. All he knew was that when he returned,  _ that  _ name would be on everyone’s lips, telling him of the new revelations, or unspeakable deeds that were connected with that spider. It would be the one name that haunted him for years to come. Moriarty. 


	23. XXII

           The last few months passed by in a flash, Christmas coming and going, another year that they had enjoyed with Anthea and Ryan, and surprisingly, Mycroft had put up less of a fight for a tree this time around. The new year was brought in, and work was tough, keeping them both on odd schedules and there would be weeks where all they would see of each other were small moments in time. There would be a quick breakfast before one of them had to leave, or falling into bed after the other was fast asleep and waking before they had as well. Every once in awhile they were lucky and had a few days where they could actually enjoy a dinner together, or an afternoon off where Greg would watch footie and Mycroft would read, and those days were always cherished. 

           A few weeks prior they had thrown a farewell party for one of the forensic kids in Greg's department, and Mycroft had attended as well, though it was clear he wasn't particularly comfortable around his team. The kid had finally graduated uni, and was off to bigger things, and though Greg was sad to see him go, the kid worked hard and deserved whatever he was able to move to next. Sherlock didn't handle him leaving too well, complaining that he was the only competent one on the forensics team, which honestly, Greg couldn't argue too much about, but it didn't merit the amount of sulking the detective did or how he treated some of the other team members. The job had been posted and a few applicants seemed noteworthy, but after a month of deliberation and a couple interviews, they had finally decided on someone named Anderson. It would be his first day come Monday, and someone had let the cat out of the bag to Sherlock that he would be in, and Greg was not looking forward to that moment. 

          Sherlock was up bright and early Monday morning, well, up was relative as he never went to sleep in the first place. Pacing around his flat, he had been dressed and ready to go for quite some time and knew that he had to wait a few minutes more before he could head out and the NSY would be open. He had heard the whispers, the rumours that they had hired someone new, and who better to judge this new person than himself after all. When his watch chimed, Sherlock practically flew out the door, grabbing his coat and scarf and rushing down the stairs, hailing a cab and barking the destination to the cabbie before settling in. When he reached the NSY, he practically tossed the money to the driver and hopped out, heading up the stairs and straight past security who didn't even both stopping him anymore. 

          "Lestrade!" He shouted, heading back to the man's office, but stopping once he ran into a new face, someone he hadn't seen before. "Oh, so you are the fresh meat, tell me, what is your name? No, wait, give me a moment before you speak, I can work this all out, after all, if you are going to listen to me and believe what I tell you, I think you should have first hand experience with my skills,"

          “Sherlock,” Lestrade warned, Donovan moving to hold him back, whispering something to him that was unimportant as Sherlock focused back on the new forensic tech in front of him. 

          “Oh please, everyone’s already told me about you. The man who somehow knows where all the crime scenes are and thinks himself better than everyone else. Makes me wonder if you’re not a part of them.” 

          “He knows them because I call him into the ones we need help with,” Lestrade chimed in again, moving to stand next to Sherlock. Sherlock gave a smirk when the new one started back at him, cocky attitude and arms crossed over his chest in defense. 

           “Yes, and do you know why the police call me? They don’t consult just anyone, and I am the best and only consulting detective. If you had half a brain you would realise that I am a high functioning sociopath, not a psychopathic killer. Then again, you didn’t do so well in your psychology courses now did you, and you struggled in university to get good marks, not that you didn’t, but they didn’t come easy. That’s why you are in your early thirties and only now just getting a job on a forensics team…” 

            “Sociopath… like you’re proud of it.” The man in front of him scoffed. Sherlock tsked, looking to the man with a playful frown, mocking him. 

            “Now, let’s get to the details. You are a half decent forensic analyst, married but not happily, have cheated on your wife twice, no, wait, three times. You don’t have any children, have low self esteem, yet you seem to be very cocky and willing to take on a man that everyone has warned you about, so you are eager to prove yourself,” Sherlock started, but was quickly cut off by Lestrade, frowning when the DI stepped between them. 

           “You have no right to talk about me like that!” The man snapped, looking around at the rest of the group for some sort of support, though the majority were glancing between themselves awkwardly until one of the officers spoke up. 

           “Sherlock might be an arse, but he’s always right,” He said, shrugging before walking away now that he’d had his fill of the little showdown. 

           “Look, let’s just end this now. Sherlock, Anderson; Anderson, Sherlock. Move along now.” Lestrade warned, putting his hand on his shoulder to try and guide him away. 

            “A sociopath who hides behind his boss and gets his joy from murders and telling everyone what we do in bed? You’re not brilliant, you’re a  _ freak.”  _ Anderson hissed, Lestrade immediately wheeling around and jabbing his finger into the man’s chest. 

           “You listen to me real good, Anderson. One, I don’t deal with cheats, so you better damn well sort your life out here and now. Two, you want to be treated with respect, you do your damn job. Now go do your damn job.” If he hadn’t been schooling his expressions, Sherlock would have let his jaw drop open and his eyes go wide when Lestrade told him off and ordered the rest to go back to work. There was a smug grin on his face as Anderson looked between them, a triumphant glare as he held his shoulders back and his chest high. He didn’t even need to say anything to show the other that he was clearly the superior here, but that quickly ended when he heard Lestrade order him to his office. 

           “What? No, I just came to meet this…” Sherlock gestured to Anderson before turning back to Lestrade. “I have my ash experiment at home, I must return.” Of course, Lestrade wasn’t going to give him a choice in the matter and instead grabbed him by the arm and dragged him over to the office before slamming the door. Brushing off his jacket when the other let him go, Sherlock held his hands behind his back and looked to the DI. “Well, that was certainly more entertaining that I had thought it would be, a good cure for boredom if you ask me, though I hardly think dragging me into your office was necessary Lestrade, so if you don’t mind I think I will go home and tend to my ash.” 

           “You do not just get to humiliate people out of sheer amusement, do I make myself clear? I really ought to make you go out there and apologise, but I know that won’t happen.” Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes, sitting down in the office chair, knowing this was going to take a moment for Lestrade to get over. 

           “I will not apologise for the fact that you hired a complete idiot to replace what was a perfectly good man who actually knew how to do his job… well… for the most part, he was mostly competent, but that’s beside the point,” 

           “What the hell was that about, Sherlock? Hm? That was completely uncalled for, no matter how much you are annoyed about having to make due with my team, myself included. That does not mean you can go about making enemies out of everyone! Because no matter how much I will always fight for you, at the end of the day, they are employed by the Met, not you, and we’ll both lose this fight,” Sherlock muttered to himself as the other collapsed in his chair and sighed, showing signs of giving in so he stood to head for the door. “What ash experiment are you talking about? Ash doesn’t have anything to do with anything.” 

           “What ash experiment, really Lestrade? I have only been experimenting on two hundred and forty three types of tobacco ash for about three months now, has that really escaped your attention? Look on my blog, the science of deduction, if you really want to follow it because I honestly do not have time to explain it all to you right now. If you don’t mind, I have to get back to the ash,” 

           “Fine, do. Text me if you need me, and don’t look at me like that, you know what I mean.” Sherlock raised his brow and waited on his heels for the other to wave him off before exiting the office, shooting a glare over in Anderson’s direction and finding his way to a cab. 

           Finally back at the flat, Sherlock hung up his coat and scarf and moved to sit back at the table, taking another petri dish and placing it under the microscope for observation. It went like this for a while, examine, write notes, re-examine the specimen, angrily cross out any previous assumptions and write new notes, then move to the next one. If he were to get through twenty different samples today he would be lucky, but then again, other distractions always did come along. After several hours and only three different specimens being hashed and rehashed, his mobile chirped and caught his attention. Frowning, he looked down at the screen as an alert had popped up, not a message from Lestrade, but a police scanner he had installed on his phone. He wanted to stay up to date as Lestrade didn’t always deem it necessary to have him there. Well, a body in the shipping district, found alone, shot, and laid out covered in a white sheet. Not the most interesting thing he had heard of all day, more like a four or five, but he was starting to get a little bored with his ash and needed something better for a moment. Standing up and carefully storing the dishes, Sherlock moved to grab his coat and scarf and quickly headed out to hail a cab, making his way towards the scene, a small smirk on his lips. 

           Arriving on scene, the tape was already up and a few of the men from NSY were standing by, rolling their eyes as he stepped up but not arguing and allowing him on the scene. By now, they just assumed he had been invited, which worked wonders so he wouldn’t have to fight them on it. It didn’t take long to find Lestrade, who looked a tad surprised he was there, but didn’t look like he was going to tell him to leave either. 

          “Normally I wouldn’t have come, I never leave the flat for anything less than a six, but the ash was a bit tedious after examining it for hours. I needed something else to stimulate my mind, now, where is the body?” Sherlock clapped his hands together, rubbing them and looking about.

           “I’m not surprised. Right, well, this way then, and please, play nice with Anderson?” Lestrade added as they walked over to the body that had been hidden away in the corner by a shed, laid out respectfully. “We have a name already, a Jackson Sollen, but outside of a speeding ticket two years ago, his record’s clean. We’ve had some gang fights recently in the area, but he doesn’t match up with any of it. Everything else I have to say I’m sure you’re about to tell me, so I’ll leave it up to you.” Lestrade’s chatter about the scene was background noise as his eyes scanned over everything he deemed relevant, the body, the wound, the sheet the body was wrapped in, and the dust patterns as well as the blood splatters. Moving about the scene, Sherlock was careful to step around the evidence, wanting to preserve the integrity of it all and make sure that nothing was skipped over. 

             “There were three people here, judging by the footprints in the ground. One was this man here, the other was a woman, around five foot four, roughly nine and a half stone, and a larger man, the assailant who shot Sollen, around… six two and fourteen stone.” Sherlock muttered, dancing about and recreating the scene in his mind based off the dust and blood splatters. “It had started between the woman and man, probably something domestic or other, and Sollen was there on the woman’s side. It looks like… based on scatter of blood and the footprints that…” Sherlock trailed off, his heart sinking and his mouth dropping as he realised what had happened. 

> _ “John, stay back,” Sherlock growled as the man came towards him, a gun pointed straight at his chest. He was more concerned for his partners safety, as it was highly unlikely that a shot would kill him, but it would John.  _
> 
> _ “Sherlock,” The other started, but he quickly cut him off, stepping to the side to block John from his attackers view.  _
> 
> _ “Your grievance is with me, let John go and we can work this out, there is no need to do anything rash,” Holding his hands out in front, his thoughts racing in a million directions and his heart roaring in his ears. Sherlock look to the man and could see that he wasn’t going to just give in. “Look, I will come with you, we can work this out.” Moving closer the man tightened his grip on the firearm and his scowl deepened.  _
> 
> _ “Sherlock, don’t!” That was the last thing he heard before the gunfire cracked through his ears and his eyes shut, waiting for the pain and holding his breath, but it never came. Letting out a shaky breath, Sherlock opened his eyes, noting the look on the assailants face and he froze. Swallowing hard, Sherlock looked down in front of him to see John laying lifeless in a puddle of blood that had started to form under him.  _
> 
> _ “No,” He whispered, his voice cracking as he fell to his knees. He wasn’t completely sure what happened after, but the man fled and Sherlock didn’t have much time to think before the rage overtook him and he started to shake. Quickly taking off his coat and wrapping it around his lover, Sherlock set John down, placing a reverent kiss to his forehead and making sure he was tucked away with care till he could return, before running after the man who had shot him in cold blood.  _

           Standing up, his hands shaking, Sherlock stepped away from the body, shaking his head and stuttering as he couldn’t take his eyes off Sollen. No. The assailant had got away from him when this had happened over a century ago, but he wouldn’t allow for that to happen this time. Without saying a word to Lestrade, Sherlock took off, following the clues to track down the man who had brought so much pain back to him, knowing that someone out there was feeling as he had for John. He ran, his chest heaving as he searched, looking for small cues as to where the man could have gone, knowing he had to be quite a bit behind him, if not a couple hours, but he was determined. After about thirty minutes of running down alleys and skipping corners, Sherlock ran into a door of a large warehouse, empty by the looks of it where the footprints ran and stopped. Opening the door slowly, Sherlock peered around the vacant lot, trying to figure out where the man was hiding without him finding him first. Standing still for a moment, Sherlock closed his eyes, trying to cut off all other sense so he could hear if there were any changes. He wasn’t particularly worried about being shot, he had survived worse, and it took a lot more than that to actually do him permanent damage, so he focused, really tried to listen. After a few moments there was a small noise and his eyes opened, his body turning in that direction. 

           “Lestrade!” Sherlock growled as he saw the other stepping through the door, his heart sinking and blood running cold. “You need to leave, now,” This was not going to happen a second time. After everything that had led up to him losing John, he couldn’t let this happen again. There was still a part of him that blamed Mycroft, but he could never forgive himself if he made someone else suffer the same loss and hurt he felt when John was gone. 

            “I’m not leaving you behind,” Lestrade snapped, grabbing his wrist, the two of them struggling against one another until the other had managed to wedge his hand between his side and the wall. “I taught you all of your hand to hand!” He hissed. “Don’t fight me, I’m helping, and I’ve got a vest on. Now let me help you.” 

            “Look, Lestrade, I get it, you think you can do this, and under any normal circumstances, I might step aside, but right now, I cannot have you here. Leave! Mycroft would never forgive me if something happened to you like this and I wouldn’t either.” 

            “I’m sorry but fighting me isn’t going to change anything, now tell me what we’re going after.” When Lestrade tried to shove his way back in, Sherlock stepped in front of him, shielding his body with his own. The memories were coming back to him, his heart roaring in his ears and thudding in his chest as he tried to keep his thoughts straight. 

            “Call in your team, I don’t care, I need you to leave now. I’ll go with you if that will make you leave,” Sherlock growled, keeping his eyes trained around them for any movements. 

            “I can’t have you calling in a team,” A voice came from the dark, a man stepping out and the click of a pistol shattering through the air. Lestrade scrambled to pull his gun at the sound, holding it steady as he aimed just past his head. 

            “Detective Inspector Greg Lestrade! You’re under arrest for the murder of Jackson Sollen. Put the gun down, now!” Sherlock’s heart sunk as he listened to Lestrade call out to the other, stating his name and the fact that he was with the police. Pursing his lips and cursing, he felt the other step to the side and he quickly moved, trying to block him, his heart jumping into his throat as he feared that his past was about to repeat itself.

            “Lestrade,” He growled, trying hard to keep his body blocking the others. 

            “You ain’t taking me anywhere, Detective Inspector. You take another step and I will shoot him,” The man nodded towards him, his fingers trained on the trigger and pointing the gun in his direction. At least that was a bit of a relief, knowing that the man intended to go for him instead of Lestrade, knowing that he could survive this a lot easier than the other. 

            “He’s not going to move, and if he is, he is going to  _ leave, _ ” Sherlock gritted through his teeth, pushing back on the other’s chest with his arm, trying to make him get further behind him. 

            “Sherlock,” Lestrade warned softly, still keeping his gun on the assailant. “Why did you shoot Jackson?” The assailant chuckled, looking to the two of them. 

            “Why would I say anything to you? Technically you have no proof and if I talk, you can use that against me. No, you’re going to stay silent, and I’m not telling you shit.” 

            “He didn’t mean to shoot Jackson,” Sherlock hissed, trying to placate the other, not wanting this to take a turn for the worst. 

            “Well, you’re the smart one aren’t you?” The man asked, taking a few steps back. “Well this has been fun boys, but I must get going,” The man started walking backwards, keeping his gun trained on Sherlock. Unfortunately, Lestrade didn’t seem to like that as he pushed past Sherlock’s arm and shouted towards the other, threatening to pull the trigger. Before he could finish, he saw the look on the assailants face and had to act fast, rushing forward and shoving Lestrade out of the way as the man pulled the trigger. The pain came a few seconds after the bullet hit his chest and he collapsed. There were a few more bullets fire, and all he could do was gasp as he curled in on himself on the floor. 

             “Lestrade, no… let him go…” 

             “Sherlock! Sherlock, breathe, I’m okay. It’s okay. An ambulance is on its way, I’m right here. Focus, yeah? Focus on me, just breathe right now. I have you.” Sherlock tried to keep his eyes open, looking to the man above him and making sure he hadn’t been hit. 

             “I’m find, just… make sure he’s down,” he managed to gasp, his mouth filling with blood as he could taste the iron. From where Lestrade’s hands were pressed, he could tell that his heart hadn’t been hit, so he would be fine, but that didn’t mean that it still wasn’t painful. “I’m fine… fine…” His eyes started to close and his world was going dark. He knew he wasn’t going to be conscious for much longer. “Tell Mycroft… I tried…” That was all he could manage before he blacked out. 

*****

             The car came to a halt outside of the warehouse where Mycroft had last received pings from Gregory’s mobile, rushing out of the car and into the building, only to find him huddled over Sherlock on the floor, another man down on the ground about twenty feet away. 

             “Oh god,” His heart dropped as he saw the blood, not sure if it was the both of them, or where it had come from. Tripping over himself as he made his way to the other’s side, he checked Gregory over, looking for any injuries. “Are you okay? Have you called an ambulance?” A small team of his security was now in the building, moving over to the assailant on the ground and making sure that he was down and not a threat. 

             “I’m fine, My. I’m fine. Stop pushing me!” Gregory snapped, turning his attention back to Sherlock. “He was hit in the chest, I have to keep pressure on it. There’s an ambulance on the way, check the other guy and make sure he’s still alive too. He’s our guy,” There was a breath of relief when he saw that nothing had happened to Gregory, and that Sherlock wasn’t in any real danger. “Go wave them down for me, the sirens… we need to get them both into surgery as soon as possible.” 

             “Love, I know this is hard to think about right now, but you need to calm down, Sherlock will be okay, surgery or not. He’s immortal, remember,” Mycroft muttered in hushed tones, looking down to his baby brother and brushing aside a few errant curls. 

             “He’s shot in the chest!” Gregory hissed, tears streaking down his cheeks as he looked back to Sherlock. The emergency responders were soon rushing in with two gurneys and Mycroft stepped back, holding tight to Gregory as they took over, holding Sherlock and loading him into the back. One of the staff gave him the information of where he would be taken before rushing after the team and out the door. “Come, Anthea is already bringing you a fresh clothes and will meet us at the hospital, let’s be there when Sherlock comes around,” 

             “I-I can’t. I have to… I have to turn over my gun. I have to contact the office. I have to do my job, My.” 

             “My team is here, they can take your gun, and I told them on the way here they may need to speak with Donovan and find her quickly if anything had gone wrong. You on the other hand, need to take care of yourself, and see to your brother-in-law who will be coming out of surgery.” Mycroft placed a hand on the back of the man’s head, kissing his forehead as they stood there, Gregory shaking against him. 

             “I tried to keep him safe. I really did. I’m sorry,” The other whispered as he shook. 

             “Love, you did keep him safe, he’s alright. You need to come with me, I promise, I will explain everything and it will all make sense. Now, will you let me take you to Sherlock?” Pulling back, he looked down at the other, his heart aching as he looked at the concern and guilt written all over the other’s features. Gregory nodded, not saying anything more but agreeing to give control over to his team. 

             “Right… okay. Okay.” Handing over the gun and murmuring thanks, Gregory tugged at his gun vest to loosen it before leaning heavily against Mycroft’s side. “What do we do now?” Walking with Gregory over to the waiting car where Anthea stood, as she handed a bag of clothes to them. She also had wipes for the blood, cleaning him of it all as they were shielded for some privacy and so the other could change his clothes. When he was clean, they both slipped into the car and after a few seconds it was on its way to the hospital where Sherlock was at. 

             “Gregory, love, I know this sounds a bit redundant and obvious, but immortals don’t die. Well, there is only one way they can, and it rarely ever happens. It has only happened twice in the history of our time. To kill an immortal you would have to completely destroy either their brain or their heart. Beyond that, we can come back from anything, it just takes time. A pistol shot to the heart wouldn’t have killed him, just slowed him down. Sherlock will be fine love,” Mycroft held Gregory close, keeping his head on his chest as the car sped through the streets. 

             “He was trying to protect me. He wanted me to leave but I couldn’t just turn away, My. I just… I had to protect him,” Gregory murmured, still shaking in his arms. “I shot a man…” 

             “You shot a criminal who killed someone and tried to kill Sherlock. Look, love. I know we haven’t spoke much about Sherlock and why he doesn’t look for John, but I think you need to know. This wouldn’t be the first time Sherlock has put himself in danger, and most certainly will not be the last. There was someone very dangerous that he managed to get involved with, and John was always by his side, so naturally he was there when the man found Sherlock again. Sherlock had placed himself in front of John because he knew that he couldn’t die from a gunshot wound, but John could and he wasn’t going to risk that. At last minute though, John threw himself in front of Sherlock and that effectively ended his life. After wrapping John up, Sherlock chased after the other man, blind with rage, but unfortunately never found him. Losing John and the man who killed him, ate Sherlock from the inside out, and he never forgave himself.” His voice was soft as he told the story, looking down to Gregory and gauging his reaction. “So, when he saw that body and figured out what had happened, he wasn’t about to let that person get away with it like they had with John. I would imagine it only made it worse when you tagged along, someone who could die from a gunshot, and that is why he told you to leave.”

            “I wasn’t going to let Sherlock run off without someone watching his back though,” Gregory tried to explain, pushing himself upright to sit on his own as he dragged his hands over his face with a heavy sigh. “I tried to tell him that I had my vest, I was safe. I just wanted to keep him safe too.” 

            “I know love, I know.” Mycroft hushed the other, even though his heart was indebted to Sherlock for protecting Gregory, because even if he had a vest on, that didn’t mean the man couldn’t have shot him in the head. When they arrived at the hospital, Mycroft quickly got out, followed by Gregory who was linked at his arm as they made their way to the front desk. Of course he was in surgery, but they were lead to a private waiting room where they could stay until he was out. “I know sitting and waiting isn’t going to make you feel any better, and I wish that I could somehow, but I don’t know what else to do for you but tell you that everything is going to be okay,” Mycroft frowned, watching as the other started to pace the room, looking on edge. 

            “Will you be able to get a few days off? I don’t want to be alone and I don’t think Sherlock’s going to be any sort of company either.” 

            “Anthea is already on the job, she is arranging for the both of us to have off for as long as necessary. Sherlock will stay with us in the meantime. I hope that is okay that I already planned to have him set up in the suite downstairs. I know I hadn’t spoken with you about it yet, but I really don’t think it wise that he stays on his own while healing.” Mycroft stood, walking over to where the other was pacing and holding out his arms, letting the man come to him and holding him close as he just tried to calm the other, rubbing his hands over the man’s back. “We will get through this love, Sherlock will be okay. I’m so sorry you had to witness all of this and be a part of it. I’m here for you, anything you need.” After a few hours, a doctor came to see them and give them an update, and after another hour they were told they could finally see him. Holding tight to Gregory’s hand, Mycroft nodded as they were brought to the door, letting his partner go in before him. It wasn’t a sight he was completely new to, seeing Sherlock in the hospital, hooked up to all sorts of machines, and unconscious, but it was never easy on him either, no matter how many times this had happened.  

            “I’m guessing this isn’t the first time one of you has gotten yourself into this sort of situation, if you can be so calm with everything. That or you’re a better actor than I give you credit for sometimes.” Moving to take a seat in one of the chairs that lined the back wall, Mycroft leaned back and looked up to Gregory who was still looking at Sherlock, taking it all in. 

             “Not the first, and it won’t be the last. As much as we try to keep our lives a secret and not have anyone find out about our immortality, it never fails that someone does and things get… well, dicey. It also doesn’t help either that we have lived through revolutions, wars and civil unrest throughout the centuries, or that neither of us ever really pick the safest of careers. Sherlock has also put himself in the hospital one to many times from drug usage that seeing him in here is not a shock, but it does still make my heart ache for him.” Mycroft paused, letting the information sink in. “It’s not easy to kill one of us. You have already seen that we tolerate pain a lot better than mortals, but it takes a lot of efforts. A blast from a bomb, a shotgun to the brain or heart, setting us on fire, something completely destructive like that, to be able to end one of our lives.” 

             “Could we… not talk about that? Ever again? Please?” Gregory asked softly, moving to rest his hand lightly over Sherlock’s wrist. “I do what I can to try and keep him from using, but it’s hard sometimes when he randomly shows up at my scenes because he’s bored or mocks my team just to get a reaction out of them. He’s a good kid, though. Hopefully he’ll let us help him until he gets better. I know you’ve mentioned before how you all can heal faster, but I’m going to have to say that a bullet wound is still very much a bullet wound no matter how you cut it.” Giving the other an apologetic smile and a nod, Mycroft watched Gregory with Sherlock. 

             “You do an amazing job, and I know, in a few years when the good doctor returns from his duty, we can reunite the two of them, and you will see the wonders that John can do for Sherlock. I’m hoping that enough time has passed that if Sherlock were to encounter John once more, he wouldn’t run or discard him, that he would be, well, happy to see him again and be back with him. I cannot always predict what my brother will do, but I hope that he will let John back in.” Mycroft’s voice was soft as he looked at their hands clasped together. “Yes, a bullet wound will take a couple weeks for him to recover from, so I do hope that you are ready for his nagging and whining at home for that long. I really do owe him now. He was trying to save you from the same fate that John suffered, he was doing it for me.”

              “I kept trying to tell him I had my vest. He cares far more than he’ll ever admit, the same way you do. He just also has to hate you because you’re his brother, and it’s in the sibling rule book that you can’t be too close with one another either.” Mycroft sighed, lowering his head with a frown. Gregory moved to his side, sitting down on the sofa and looking up to Sherlock. There was more to the story of losing John than he had told Gregory, and with everything that had happened, he wasn’t sure if it was a good time or not to bring it up. There was a reason Sherlock said he hated him, said they were enemies, never talked to him or called him, and why he always tried to bring him down when they were together. Some part of Sherlock, how ever small it might be, could sometimes look past what had happened and realise that it hadn’t been Mycroft’s intention, and it was moments like today where those times were a godsend, but most days… Sherlock wanted nothing to do with him and blamed him entirely. Swallowing hard, Mycroft tried to hold back the pain he was feeling, not having revisited these thoughts for a long time.

             “My?” Gregory asked softly, facing him. “Love, what’s wrong? You said yourself Sherlock will be alright. I’ll listen to him next time he tells me to back off, okay? I just… I had to keep him safe, too. I wasn’t about to just let him stay there and face the man without someone having his back.” 

             “No Gregory, it isn’t you. It’s me,” Mycroft’s voice was barely audible, shaking as he tried to hold back the tears that threatened to streak down his face. “It’s my fault he lost John, that is why he hates me, why he won’t speak to me,” Almost a whisper, Mycroft closed his eyes, shutting them tight, his features twisted in pain as he had to relive the memory over and over again. The man…  _ that  _ man, was a stain on their lives. He was a mate of a former immortal, one of the few that had actually died throughout history. The horror of it was that they had been there when the immortal had died, they had seen the light leave him, and his partner, well he was there too, but when his mate died, all of his memories came back, but something went wrong, something went very wrong. The man was losing his mind, and somehow believed that Sherlock was his mate and few more and more unstable when he was told the truth, and when he saw John and Sherlock together it only made it worse. It was his duty to keep the man contained, to make sure he never was able to harm anyone, as he was immortal now and it was a code against their kind to kill another. Mycroft had failed though, he had escaped, and if he had just done a better job, if he had just made sure that Brooks was under a tighter watch, none of it would have happened. 

              “I’m sure that’s not true. I know for a fact that you weren’t the one who shot John,” Gregory whispered, gently rubbing small circles along Mycroft’s neck to comfort him. “You don’t have to explain it all to me. It’ll be okay. I promise you it’ll sort itself out. Look at me. Sherlock told me that he was trying before he passed out. He’s an arse, but he’s a good man and he does care about you. He doesn’t hate you, just like how any teen doesn’t actually hate their parents when they don’t get their way. He’s just stubborn.” 

              “I might as well have been the one. I let the man go who shot him, I knew what a danger he was, what a threat he posed, and I let him go…” A few silent tears streaked down his cheek as the memories of that horrific night and how Richard Brooks lost his mind in front of them… it had almost consumed him at one point. “He has every right to hate me, to be mad that I let it happen. I am the reason he won’t look for John, that is why I am trying so hard to put this back right.” Mycroft’s chest felt tight as his voice shook, the pain clear in his words. When Gregory pulled back and caught his gaze, he looked at the man through the tears, his cheeks hot where they had raced over his skin. Having Sherlock save Gregory like that, he wasn’t sure if he was trying to prevent it from happening again fro his own sake, or so that Sherlock didn’t have to relive those painful memories of losing John again. “Trying to help himself maybe, but I can’t see that he would do it for me after all I have done.” 

              “Because you’re still his brother you idiot,” Gregory sighed, leaning in to give him a long kiss. “Stop being so harsh on yourself. No, I don’t understand, but I do know that Sherlock told me that he would never forgive himself if I got hurt because of him, for you. Now stop, okay?” Mycroft wasn’t even sure where Brooks was now. After that night, they hadn’t seen or heard from him, and he just assumed the man had lost himself completely and was alone in a dark place, completely out of his mind. As long as he never came back to haunt him, maybe Gregory was right and they could finally get past this. Nodding when the other finally calmed him down, Mycroft almost collapsed into his arms. “There. Now, I’m sure Sherlock will wake up soon enough, and we both know that he’ll mock you forever if you’re still like this when he wakes. You don’t have to be so hard on yourself or him. You’ll both always have each other’s back, everyone knows that.” 

            “Gregory, what would I ever do without you?” He muttered after a few moments, taking deep breaths to try and steady his racing heart. 

             “Driving yourself crazy for no good reason.” Gregory pointed out with a gentle smile as they relaxed back against one another while they waited for Sherlock to wake up. 

*****

            His head was heavy and his vision foggy, but he could hear voices murmuring in the background. Drifting in and out of consciousness was becoming the norm for what seemed like a very long time, but after a while, he was able to hold onto it and actually open his eyes. The sound of machinery whirred and beeped in the background, the voices having since stopped and then there was the pain, dull and achy in his chest. Sherlock groaned as he blinked a few times, trying to grasp where he was and what was happening. Hospital, he was in hospital, and they had him hooked up. 

           “Stupid cords,” He muttered, reaching over and trying to free himself of them, not getting very far before Lestrade was at his side stopping him. Frowning, Sherlock wanted to insult the other, throw a smart remark, but the medications were making him far slower than he wanted. A nurse came in followed by his brother and he was forced to answer her inane questions for what seemed like forever before they left him alone so he could lay back and close his eyes. 

           “Looks like you’ll be the same know it all arse as you’ve always been, just with an extra hole for it to pour out of. How are you feeling?” 

           “I would be better if there weren’t all these damned cords attached to me, and I was at home.” 

           “Well you have to stay here till they release you, and even after that, you will be staying with us until you are healed. No talking back Sherlock, you hear?” 

           “Yeah, good luck with that one, My. If he’s not talking back then the world’s coming to an end.” Lestrade muttered, looking over to his brother. “Sherlock, following through with the doctor and taking it easy until you’re healed mean’s you’ll be done in what, two weeks? Compared to two months. The faster you get better, the faster you’ll be back on cases with me, okay?” Sherlock sulked, frowning and sinking further into the bed. “Thank you. Even though it wasn’t necessary to take the bullet for me since I had my vest on, thank you for protecting me as well. I owe you. We both do. Just rest for right now. They have you on a lot of pain meds because you have one hell of a tolerance. I’m sure once they wean you off you’ll be able to leave.”  Groaning, Sherlock didn't like the sound of having the pain be worse because they would be taking him off the morphine, but on the bright side, at least he wouldn't have to be in this damned hospital bed. "Great, now, can you two leave me in peace until I have to go home? Both of you are putting me off right now and it isn't helping me feel better," He quipped, closing his eyes and bringing his hands to a steeple under his chin. If he was going to pull through this, he would need to escape and try and erase a few thoughts and memories before the meds stopped. He wasn't sure how long it had been since the two of them had left, but the doctor came and went, slowly turning down the meds and the pain slowly got worse and worse. On top of the pain, there were the memories, the flashbacks of what had happened to John now haunting him as he sat in that hospital room. Sherlock tried, tried to block them out, tried to keep his mind busy with other things, but without distractions, without his experiments or cases, or hell, even being able to play his violin, the noise was too loud. How was he going to survive three weeks sober with all the noise?


	24. XXIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter is a big angsty, and there's some smut at the end. I just wanted to warn those of you, there are heavy mentions of drug use and we did go a little rougher with the smut at the end, and there is some hints at breathplay, so just a fair warning! Also, neither of us are very... ummm.... knowledgeable or experienced with that sort of play... so I hope we did alright!

           He couldn't do this, not any longer. It had been two weeks, and he was practically itching in his own skin, living in Mycroft's basement, under strict supervision and house arrest. The memories were haunting him even more, the memory of the immortal dying playing over and over again, and Richard Brooks, the man who took everything from him, that face lived in his mind, permanently etched in his brain. Sherlock wasn’t sure how many more nightmares he could take, having told hold John's lifeless body in his hands. As if that weren't bad enough, seeing Lestrade and Mycroft together, acting like a couple, truly happy, it made that ache even worse. It was easy to pretend that not having John around wasn't as bad as it really was when he wasn't faced with it. That was the main reason he had started using, and when he got sober, the cases and other distractions took their place. Now though, sitting in a house with the two of them, constantly reminded of it all, he was going to lose his mind. He had to do something. 

           For the next week, he had been able to get ahold of a few contacts from his homeless network that was willing to get him what he wanted, just something to take the edge off, to numb his mind. Sherlock had been extra careful never to send the same person twice so that Mycroft's security team didn't get suspicious. He also waited till Mycroft and Lestrade had left the house, or were thoroughly distracted so he could make his way to the front door and gather the goods himself. They obviously weren't that observant because they hadn't discovered it yet, and never found his stash, and he planned on quitting as soon as he could go back to cases and ash, but right now, this was all he could do to stay sane.

           The slams on his door came ringing through his head, waking him from his sleep as he groaned and rolled over. Why couldn't Lestrade and his brother just leave him alone already? He had an alarm set, he was going to wake up before they came home so he could get his stash and...  _ shit _ . Getting up quickly and wincing at the pain in his chest, Sherlock reached for his mobile to check the time. Somehow he managed to have slept through his alarm, and why was Lestrade even home? He was supposed to be at work today. Quickly throwing on his clothes and a dressing gown, he made sure to hide all evidence of his drug use, and cover his arms so that the other wouldn't see the track marks. He would only have a few minutes before Lestrade would be back and he wanted to make sure the other didn't catch on. Moving to the bathroom, he threw cold water on his face, trying to wake himself up and checking his pupils. Still a tad dilated. Alright, so looking to the other was out of the plan. Unlocking the bedroom door, he laid down on the bed, putting his hands in a steeple under his chin and closed his eyes, trying to relax and hoping the other wouldn't see this as anything other than normal.

*****

          Greg could tell that the master plan of having Sherlock stay with them was slowly backfiring on everyone, Sherlock always seeming just a bit off and Mycroft always seeming a bit on edge. Sherlock wasn’t getting into the trouble that the D.I had been expecting, but instead had been locking himself away in his room, really his level of the house, for hours at a time until one or both of them went down to get him something to eat. They tried to entertain him, and personally Greg found the man’s love for childish board games hysterical simply because it was obvious how much Mycroft despised them, but still they did what they could to watch over Sherlock as much as they could. It wasn’t until one day that Greg had unexpectedly gotten off, staying in bed late and simply enjoying the fact that he was able to sleep in before deciding that he would treat Mycroft with one of his favourite meals that took time to make. Fussing around the kitchen as he prepped everything to make a roast, Greg frowned when he heard a knock at the door that he wasn’t expecting. Wiping his hands off on a towel, he checked out the window first before opening the door to look curiously back at a rather thin stick of a woman looking back at him. 

           “Hi, can I help you?” 

           “Um… Is Sherlock here?” She asked, looking back and forth as if someone was going to come up and take her away or attack her. “I have something for him, but I’d rather give it right to him…” She started again, rubbing her arms with her hands, looking out of place and very nervous. Greg look over her a little longer, shaking his head as he glanced back over at Mycroft’s security team who had shown themselves didn’t look particularly convinced either, but it was obvious that a hard sneeze could probably send her to the ground so she wasn’t a threat. 

           “I haven’t seen him up right now. Whatever it is, I can run it down to him.” He shrugged, not particularly caring either way about her statement of only her being the one to give it to him. As far as he knew, Sherlock certainly didn’t have any friends that paid him random house visits like this. “Unless you’d rather me go wake him for you?” Greg added, his own personal curiosity getting the best of him. “What’s your name? I’m Greg.” 

           “Well, if he’s not up, I’ll just come back later,” She was jumpy and nervous at the mention of waking Sherlock, which made him more suspicious of what this girl was doing here. “Thanks, nice to meet you Greg…” She held up her hand, giving a small, forced smirk before turning and running into one of the guards who was now standing in her way. “Oh, sorry, I’ll just be going…” Greg sighed as he watched the officers start to move in, feeling like they were a pack of hounds moving in on their prey. 

           “Back off,” He sighed, waving his hand back and doing his best to convince them to actually do so, instead of forcing the poor girl to stay where she was. “She’s a twig. Have you eaten? I’ve got some sandwich stuff if you’d like.” Greg offered, always wanting to care for others as Mycroft said he did. The offer stood, and he tried to do his best to return an honest and gentle smile to the woman even if he still didn’t know her name. “I know they’re ridiculous. Just their job, mine too, but that’s besides the point. I’m off duty, they’re not. Which means  _ I  _ can have a drink, and they can’t.” Greg shot back with an amused smirk, finally earning a few faint chuckles as the others backed off. 

          “I’m sorry, you seem like a nice man Greg, and as much as I would love to have something to eat, I had specific instructions, and I won’t get paid if I don’t follow them.” Greg sighed and nodded, though he had certainly noticed how much she had lit up at the offer of something to eat, but she still sounded like a caged rabbit. 

          “Wait here then. I’ll get you an apple and some water. You all be nice,” He directed, smiling when he received a few nods as the majority disappeared back to wherever they were normally stationed at. Ducking into the kitchen, Greg pieced together a quick ham sandwich along with an apple and some water, tucking it into a bag before returning towards the door, but not before giving a few hard slams on Sherlock’s door to wake him up. “Here. If you’d rather not, I won’t tell Sherlock you came, but it’s pointless to say I won’t tell anyone else. Take this and take care of yourself yeah?” 

           “Thank you,” She whispered with a soft smile before heading off down the street as Greg watched her go. He returned to the kitchen with a heavy sigh, running his hand through his hair. Mycroft was bound to know about the girl who had just visited, but he kept his word and not tell Sherlock, but he still had to figure out how to bring it up gently with Mycroft so he wouldn’t go off on his brother. He was nearly healed enough to go back on his own, and that day could not come soon enough. Leaning heavily on the counter to sort out his thoughts and come up with a plan of just what he was going to do with Sherlock, Greg finished preparing dinner and got it into the over before heading downstairs to where the other was on his bed, his hands pressed a bit tighter together than what was normal. 

           “Want something to eat today? Or are you still trying to argue that eating two days ago counts for close enough?”

           “Just a vessel,” Sherlock waved to his body before returning his hand to just below his chin. Greg frowned, his eyes trained on the other, not ready to leave just yet. The other let out a loud, exasperated sigh before laying his hands on the bed beside him, but still kept his eyes closed. “Yes Graham? If eating something will get you to leave me alone, then I will eat something, bring me a sandwich or something, but nothing more, then after that, can I be alone with my thoughts? Seeing as that is the only thing I can do right now.” 

           “Or we could work on learning my name… or play one of your board games, or you could tell me why your hands are shaking,” Greg shot back, his voice turning a bit softer instead of the anger that he felt with the realisation that Sherlock was using again. He felt like a fool for not noticing before, but then again, neither had Mycroft or he would be sure that poor woman wouldn’t have gotten within a hundred meters of the gate, much less the door. “I would say talk to me, but I know you don’t do that, and I’d ask for you to let me help you, but I definitely know you’d never agree to that one either, so I’ll leave it at this. No more house guests, and I’ll log into my work computer and let you sort through some files to find something interesting. Just a little longer until you’re not cringing from walking up the stairs in the house, then you’ll be able to go back home.” 

          “It’s simple. I’m in pain, I was shot in the chest not to long ago if you don’t remember. I also seem to have fits where I feel rather hot and then rather cold. If you wouldn’t mind, could you pass me the throw blanket?” Greg bit his tongue against Sherlock’s stab about getting shot, angry that it was being used against him. Sherlock got this way though, after a few days without a case to work on, and it was only magnified by the pain he was in as well as the withdraws. Watching over the man as he considered giving Sherlock exactly what he asked for and leaving him to go through the day alone, instead Greg shook his head and got the blanket that Sherlock had asked for and laid it out over him. 

           “We don’t have to talk, but I won’t leave you down here to suffer even more on your own. I’m going to get some water, I’ll be back in a minute.” He said calmly, returning a short time later with a few bottles for Sherlock and a book for himself, settling in a chair to the side where he could keep an eye on the other. No doubt he had done this plenty of times before in the past, and Greg still wasn’t sure if he should say anything to Mycroft now, or wait until Sherlock was in a better state. 

          “I’m not sure you sitting down here is any better than leaving me alone. I can hear you think and it’s worse than the silence,” Greg rolled his eyes when Sherlock continued to try and fight him, chewing his lip as he bit back a few responses before cycling to his normal sarcasm. 

          “Then maybe I should have picked a different book than my fifty pence romance,” He shot back, smirking to himself when Sherlock flinched and lifted his head up just enough to glare at him. “Yes, I’m furious at you for using again, and I don’t know why the hell you thought you could get away with it while you’re living with us, but there’s really no point in me yelling at you when I know you’re about thirty minutes away from being in too much pain for me to even breath too loud around you.” Greg pushed a hand through his hair as he closed his book and sat it back in his lap. “So, you can either let me care for you through the worst of it, and have me on your side, or you can have Mycroft down here yelling at you on your own once he gets home.” That seemed to keep the Detective quiet for a while, and after a few minutes Greg went back to his book, waiting for the worst. 

           Watching Sherlock fall apart without being able to do much of anything but give him little sips of water and try and wipe away the sweat that covered his face, was agonising. He knew it was miserable, but Greg was doing his absolute best to try and keep him as comfortable as possible, which wasn’t much. 

           “Here,” Greg murmured, offering a bit of water to Sherlock’s lips, knowing he didn’t want it, but with the fever he was running, he needed it either way. Flinching himself when he heard the front door open and slam shut, Greg swallowed nervously as he looked back at Sherlock and saw just how much pain he was in and how gone he was as well. “I’ll talk to him, it’s going to be alright,” He promised, fighting back the urge to brush his fingers through the man’s curls, knowing it would bring the exact opposite of any sort of comfort to Sherlock before jogging up the stairs to catch Mycroft before he could storm down to meet him brother. “My, love, hey.” 

           “Hello darling,” Mycroft’s voice was tired as he held out his arms and welcomed him in, Greg sighing as he allowed himself to be drawn to the other’s chest. “I’ve had a terrible day with the Russians, but seeing you always makes me feel so much better. I trust your day has gone better though?” Mycroft pulled back, looking down at him with a soft smile that faded after a few moments. “Gregory? Is something the matter?” 

           “I’m sorry, love.” Greg apologised, looking up at his partner with a gentle smile, though of course it was only a matter of time before he figured it out. Damn the Holmes ability to be able to sort out everything in one single glance. “Sherlock’s sick is all, and being miserable. That’s it.” Greg offered, telling the truth, but keeping the part about it being due to drugs on the hush. How he was going to explain why he needed to go back down to keep Sherlock company, he wasn’t sure yet, but he would figure something out. 

           “Did you make a roast tonight my dear? I am rather famished, shall we have dinner?” Greg smiled back to Mycroft when the man didn’t press, and instead asked about dinner, nodding as he was invited to eat. He was quite hungry, but he also needed to go back to Sherlock. He felt like he was quickly setting himself up for a fight that none of them wanted to have, but he had promised Sherlock that he would be on his side when it came. “Are you not going to have dinner with me love?” 

           “I-I will, in a moment though. I told Sherlock I’d only be a second, so let me at least go down and talk to him before he throws a fit about taking sixty seconds instead of just one,” He joked softly, crossing the kitchen and leaning up to kiss Mycroft gently, needing the comfort just as much as he could tell the politician needed it as well. “You Holmes boys are always a handful, good thing I like the handful I get from you, and the mouthful,” Greg added low with a smirk, giving a teasing tug at Mycroft’s tie, knowing he was playing dirty, but he would make up for it later. Greg sighed once he was back down stairs, closing his eyes and trying to figure out just what the hell he was doing before returning to Sherlock’s side. The man still looked like hell, nearly writhing in pain on his bed. Greg brushed the sweat from his brow as gently as possible. “It’s okay. Do you think you’ll be alright for me to have dinner with Mycroft?” He asked softly, not knowing what else he could do at the moment. If Sherlock needed him, of course he would stay down there, but he’d have to tell Mycroft what was going on. “Just tell me what you want, mate.” Greg sighed as he watched over him, the man barely able to give a slight moan of a response. “I’ll stay. You’ll get through this, like you always have,” He promised softly, not knowing what else to offer as he simply took Sherlock’s hand into his to give him something to anchor to. 

           “Gregory?” Mycroft called from the stairs, Gregory suddenly feeling a tad nervous as he looked to the door, feeling sick and guilty at the shock on Mycroft’s face when he walked in and looked them both over, sorting everything out on his own. 

           “I… He’s about two hours into the worst of it. It’ll pass in another. I’m sorry,” There were a couple minutes of silence, and all he could do was wait and hope that Mycroft wasn’t too angry that he had kept this from him. 

           “How? Also, when did you plan on telling me about this?” Greg was about to move and stand, but a whimper that sounded too close to a sob kept him where he was, and he swallowed thickly as he tried to figure out just what he could say to calm the anger that he could tell was behind Mycroft’s words. 

           “Apparently he was having… guests over when we were out. I only found out today when someone came to the door while I was home.” He explained, picking his words carefully. Obviously there was no point in keeping silent now, and Sherlock was too far gone to even take notice. “I thought your security would have told you about his guest today. I don’t know why they didn’t, or if you just didn’t see it today. I would have told you after he was past this.” Greg said, still trying to speak softly while he was sitting beside Sherlock. “I don’t know what else to do, My. We just have to get him through this now.” 

           “They did not tell me, and though I wouldn’t expect a message from you about this, I didn’t think you would lie to me about this upstairs. I’ll go put away dinner then,” Greg felt as though he had a bucket of ice water poured over him as Mycroft turned his back and walked away from them, sighing heavily as he leaned his head back against the mattress. 

           “I’ll be here until the end.” He promised, urging Sherlock to drink more water. It was about an hour till he was passed the worst of it and Sherlock was able to fall into an exhausted, dreamless sleep. Tucking him under a thin blanket to keep the chill off of him, Greg returned upstairs. Looking into the kitchen and feeling even more guilty than before, He made his way up to their bedroom, hoping to find Mycroft there. Knocking lightly on the door, Greg looked over at where Mycroft was sitting with a book, though he could tell the other wasn’t actually reading, just trying to look busy. “Sherlock’s asleep. Am I still welcome or should I make a bed on the couch tonight?” The other didn’t speak, instead he just moved the blankets back on his side of the bed and went back to his book. Murmuring his thanks, he undressed silently and changed into his night clothes before climbing in the bed and trying to not think of how it felt like he was back in bed with Caroline after finding out again and again that she was cheating on him. Only difference this time was that the guilt sat on his shoulders and not the other’s. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know until today. I don’t know how I would have told you, but just… please believe me that I would have told you. I just thought I would have been able to skip the worst of it and we would be able to sort out what to do with him after all the withdraws and horribleness of it.” 

           “I’m not mad that you didn’t know until today, as it seems that this had gone over both of our heads. I’m not even mad that you didn’t tell me right when you found out. I’m hurt that you chose to tell me that Sherlock was just sick and that you had to check on him, rather than telling me then that you had found out he was using. I’m hurt that you thought you would just hide it for a little longer instead of just telling me right away. Yes, I’m angry that Sherlock is using again, but yelling at him while he’s coming down from his high isn’t going to do anyone any good, and you should know that I would be able to control my anger to get him through it and then chat when we were all in a better place.” 

           “Is that why you haven’t looked me in the eye yet?” Greg asked softly, offering his hand out in the space between them for Mycroft to take if he wanted to. “I didn’t know what to say, My. You were already angry when you came in, I thought you knew, and so when you didn’t… You can’t say that you wouldn’t have done the same if our positions were flipped. Telling me half a lie to keep calm until everything passed like you knew it would? I know you do it all the time because of the way that your work, you know… works.” He argued softly, sliding down on the bed to slouch in an admittedly uncomfortable position but feeling too exhausted to move. “I promised him I’d be on his side of the argument we both knew was to come. I was just trying to watch out for him.” 

           “I… Gregory, I’m not sure what hurts more. The idea that you couldn’t talk to me and tell me what was happening, or that you thought I would be so angry that I would start to argue and yell at Sherlock and that he would need defending. Sure, I am upset with him for using, and I don’t think his actions will ever be justified, but more than anything, my heart aches that he is on this path again. I do care for him, and I know that yelling and fighting about it won’t do us any good, that he needs help. I’ve been doing this for centuries…” Greg watched Mycroft before he closed his eyes again, leaning against the headboard and sighing as they just sat in nearly suffocating silence that fell between them. 

           “I’m sorry, I don’t know what else to say right now.” He admitted, his voice soft as he looked back at the politician who was still looking pointedly down at his lap. “I fucked up. I’m sorry. I promise I won’t keep anything like this from you again. I don’t know what else to offer, though. Just that I hope you’ll forgive me.” Greg murmured, hoping that would be enough. Even if it didn’t fix much, just to know that they could eventually fix it would be enough. “Just… Look at me. Please.” Mycroft took a deep breath before opening his eyes and looking over to him and Greg sighed as he tried his best to keep that gaze, the silence saying everything he needed to know as he pushed himself to sit up again. He couldn’t do this tonight, not with how exhausted he felt with sitting through Sherlock’s withdraws and the not so low key guilt trip Mycroft had been putting him through when he could still formulate words. Scrubbing a hand over his head a few times as he made up his mind, he mumbled that he was going to sleep on the couch before making his way out of the room and heading down to the kitchen to pour himself a healthy glass of whiskey. He still had to work in the morning, so he couldn’t get too drunk, but he was going to at least allow himself to wallow in some self pity first. 

            Greg woke up to his own alarm mid morning, working the noon shift so he allowed himself to sleep in a bit more than normal after last night. Heading upstairs to get changed for work, he froze at the sight of Mycroft still sitting on the bed, cursing heavily when it clicked that he’d broken the man the same way he had done before. Scooping up Mycroft’s mobile and scrolling through the list of missed calls, Greg muttered a few more choice words as his own began to ring. Sitting down on the edge of the bed as he answered it, he tried to pull Mycroft out of his daze. 

           “Hey, Anthea. I fucked up and broke Mycroft again. I don’t know how to fix it.” He listened to her question him after a moment of silence, his eyes still on the other as he took Mycroft’s hand into his own lap. “Short version is that Sherlock’s using again and I ended up keeping it a secret because I thought security had told him, and I thought Mycroft was going to yell at him and I just wanted to keep him protected and… I just really fucked up.” He explained, not sure if that was really the short version of everything or not. “I didn’t want to fight so I slept on the sofa and when I got up I found him like this, and yes I realise now I shouldn’t have done that but at the moment he wouldn’t even look at me, and I just couldn’t… I don’t know.” At least Anthea would know how to pull him out of this, and she told him she would be right over. He was a tiny bit thankful that she didn’t snap at him this time around or threaten to revoke his visiting rights to the man who had started calling him his husband. Doing what he was told, he made some tea for Mycroft and waited for the woman to arrive. Murmuring a hello when she let herself in, Greg was caught by surprise at the gentle hug and the way that he easily relaxed into her. 

           “I’m sorry you have to see this again, and Sherlock using once more? You two need a break,” Offering a tiny smile in return to show his thanks, Greg picked up the mug and followed her to their bedroom, his stomach twisting at the sight of the politician who still hadn’t moved. “Mycroft hunny,” She walked over to him and sat down, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. “Bring the tea Gregory, and come sit here, close to him and right in front so he sees you when he comes around,” 

           “Sorry,” He said, not knowing what else to say as he carefully sat down on the bed where Anthea told him to, hesitantly setting his hand on Mycroft’s knee. 

          “My, dearest, we brought you tea. Please, you need to drink,” Anthea’s voice was quiet and soft, and she gently reached out to gesture for him to put the cup in Mycroft’s hands. “Gregory, talk to him, tell him what you think he needs to hear, making sure he knows how you feel, what you are thinking, anything that might open him up.” Greg watched, waiting for her to tell him before doing as she instructed. 

          “Mycroft, love, I… I’m sorry about last night. I’m sorry about Sherlock and I’m sorry about not immediately telling you. I promise I won’t do anything of the sort again, even if I think it might hurt you, because I realise now, that this is worse. I didn’t mean to break your trust, I just… I didn’t think. I’m sorry, but please, I need you back,” He murmured, not sure what else to say but more of what he had said last night. His eyes were starting to sting a bit from the tears building up, which didn’t help in any way save to make him feel like an idiot. “We all do. Sherlock too.” 

          “Good, good. Keep going,” Anthea encourage, smiling softly to him. Greg swallowed thickly even as Anthea assured him, still feeling horribly guilty for causing this all to happen just because he wanted to avoid a fight. 

          “I should have stayed up here with you and talked it out. It just hurt too much to have you look at me like I had betrayed you. I was trying to keep you both safe, and I have failed spectacularly in every way possible. I’m sorry,” He murmured, looking down between them. 

*****

          He wasn’t sure how long he had been lost in his thoughts, memories flashing before his eyes and thoughts racing through his mind, but it started to slow, a warmth coming to him from somewhere deep.  _ I need you back, _ that was Gregory’s voice, he knew that, and would know it anywhere. Needed him back? Frowning, he started to let go, his thoughts releasing him as he realised he was still sitting in bed. He looked down at his hands in his lap, holding a warm cuppa, another pair of hands around his. Mycroft’s frown deepened as he felt the other hand on his back and heard soft whispers between them. Anthea, and Gregory, both on the bed with him. Blinking a few times, he slowly looked up and saw Gregory, his face twisted in guilt and pain as he spoke to him. 

           “My, you… you wandered off on us there. You’ve been sitting here all night and into half the morning…” Gregory offered, slowly releasing his hands and allowing him to take the mug on his own. “I… You… You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. I understand if you’re still angry and hurt at what I did, just… I’m selfish. I need you here with me. If you want me to leave you alone, I will, I just needed to fix at least one of my mistakes and make sure that you were okay again.” Thoughts of last night came back to him as Gregory spoke, but this time they weren’t as sharp as they had been. Time really did heal wounds, and sometimes it helped to get lost in his own thoughts, which is why he typically went into these states after he lost Gregory.

          “Don’t…” Mycroft started, his voice a bit hoarse as he hadn’t used it since yesterday, and he had spent the majority of the day yesterday, yelling at Russians. Coughing to clear his throat, he tried again. “Don’t leave,” he managed, making sure the other understood before turning to Anthea. “I’m sorry my dear, you shouldn’t have to handle those imbeciles yourself,” He chuckled, only a little before having to clear his throat again. Remembering there was tea in his hands, Mycroft took a sip and sighed. “Thank you, Anthea. I will be in the office as soon as I can, but I think I need a bit of time with Gregory first. Please see to it that it won’t be a problem if he’s a tad late either. I don’t expect we will take that long, but I do want to spend as much time on this as we need and nothing less,” He gave her a soft smile before taking another sip of his tea. Anthea just gave him a soft smile and a nod before leaning in to kiss his temple and standing up off the bed, leaning down to press a quick kiss to Gregory’s cheek as well before leaving. Mycroft went to speak once Anthea had left, but was stopped by Gregory. 

           “Finish your tea first. I’m going to get changed.” Giving the other a small nod and letting out a sigh as he walked away, Mycroft held the tea close and took small sips until it was finished, setting the mug aside and walking to his closet to pick out clothes for work. Hanging up his outfit, he heard Gregory finish up and took a seat on the bed once more, waiting for the other to come out. As Gregory sat in front of him, Mycroft could see the toll that all of this had taken on the other. “I didn’t mean to lie, but I won’t assume anything again. I’m so sorry. I know you can’t forgive me yet, but I truly am.” Reaching out, Mycroft took the other’s hands in his own and ran his thumbs over the man’s knuckles in comfort. 

           “Gregory, we have centuries together, and it’s a bit different for us than it is for regular couples. This isn’t like we’ve only known one another for a year. You haven’t broken my trust because of this or anything dramatic, but it’s still… tough. This is the first time in  _ this  _ like that something like this has happened. I know you are sorry and that you didn’t mean to hurt me, and you were only trying to protect the both of us, but I just wish… I wish that you would trust me more to realise I wouldn’t have yelled at Sherlock. These past weeks have been taxing on all of us, after all that happened, and now having to live with each other in close quarters, it’s not easy. I’m sorry I shut down on you like that, it’s a horrible habit of mine.” 

          “You wouldn’t look at me or take my hand. You tell me not to go but you wanted nothing to do with me last night, and you left me downstairs with Sherlock even after you knew he was coming down. You say you wouldn’t have yelled, and that you’ve done this for centuries, but you didn’t do anything to help either. I know you’re hurt, but so am I! You said it yourself, this is the first time in this life I’ve had to do this. I didn’t know what I was doing down there, My. This is all because of me and I needed you there to help and you weren’t. That really fucking hurts. I know you love me, but I need you to show it when it’s hard too,” Gregory said, looking like he was on the verge of tears. “I’ve seen you after a bad day My. I’ve had you nearly yell at me for showing up unannounced with lunch for you. I’m sorry I thought you might yell.”

          “You hid from me that you were nursing my brother downstairs, that he was high as a kite! You weren’t even going to tell me that he was coming down, at least, not until everything had settled. Instead you lied and said that he was sick! I didn’t tell you to go last night, I didn’t say anything at all, instead you chose to go downstairs and anything I had to say last night would have just been raw and hurt and I would have said something I didn’t mean. Now I told you that I didn’t want you to go so we can talk it out and you are snapping at me like I’m the one who hid the truth. Gregory, you have  _ never  _ hid something like this from me, not in our centuries together. There have been small white lies in the beginning of our relationship, but nothing, and I mean nothing, ever like this.” Mycroft’s voice was starting to get a bit louder, his anger now coming out after he had tried to control it for so long. “What would I have done down there? Watched the two of you bond over his drug abuse? Most times when he comes down from these, he stays in his bedroom, and I come down every so often to give him water, other than that, there isn’t much you can do for him, nor does he ever want me down there. Him using has nothing to do with you, it has to do with the fact that he was bored, and couldn’t do anything about it, so he started again. Don’t even try and say that this was your fault. If you think for a second that the reason he started using again was because of the pain, then you are too easily fooled by his lies. He uses when he is bored, to forget John, to block out everything, not because he is in pain. All those other times I have found him nearly dead in an alley, he hadn’t been shot in the chest. This is what he does though, he sucks you in, makes you care for him, and then you get mad at me when I don’t coddle him and care for him because he’s having a horrible withdrawal. When you have seen him do this to himself over and over again, throughout the years, you stop treating him like a sick baby and realise that he’s just a junkie who brings this on himself.” Mycroft’s voice was hoarse, his throat swelling as he snapped, angry and hurt, raw and seething that his brother was coming between them again. That was what Sherlock did, he tried to come between them, had for centuries, since he had lost John. It was all a ploy because he thought Mycroft would be better off not looking for Gregory anymore, just like he had stopped looking for John. Gregory pulled away and stood, pacing about the room. 

           "Get up. Come here,” Frowning, Mycroft let out a sigh before following Gregory out to the balcony, leaning against the rail as he looked to the other. “We’re both angry about Sherlock using again, agreed?” When he was about to answer, Gregory stopped him once more. “Yes or no. We’re both angry.” Taking another deep breath, Mycroft just gave the other a nod. “We both should have handled last night better than we did,” Nod again, “And we both still love each other.” Once more. “No more lies; half, white, big, small, anything. No more shutting down on me. We talk, like this, before we get into fights like in there, deal?” After a few moments, that crooked smile returned to Gregory’s lips and softened his heart, and Mycroft let go of whatever anger he was still harbouring. 

          “Deal,” his voice was soft as he gave a small smile to the other, opening his arms and waiting for the other to step into him, to come back to him. There would still be hurt, but at least, they could move past it, move on, and not argue anymore. Mycroft never liked fighting, as most couples didn’t, but it was always something more with them as Mycroft came from centuries of time together and understanding, and poor Gregory only had whatever time they had together that life. 

           “I’ve got to get to work. Sherlock should be up and moving around again by now. We can try for the roast again tonight once we both get home, yeah?” Gregory offered after a minute, pulling back to look up at him. “I don’t know what’s going on with Russia, but try not to start a war before dinner? I should go. We both should, but I do love you, and always will. See you tonight.” 

           “Well, I will have higher security, no more unauthorised visits, and 24/7 monitoring on him. As for Russia, I cannot make any promises, but I will be home for dinner tonight,” Mycroft said softly, letting Gregory go as they heard sirens go off in the distance. After a few moments, Mycroft made his way to the ensuite and showered, taking his time in the water to wash away any pain or hurt he had left before moving downstairs to speak with his brother. Looking down at where his brother lay, he could tell by the man’s breathing that he was not asleep, just faking it. “You did not win brother, you never will. Just because you seem to think you are better without John, does not mean that the rest of us must suffer as you do. Next time you try and come between the two of us, there will be consequences.” Sherlock didn’t move, but he knew the other had heard him. Taking his leave, Mycroft sent a message off to Anthea before heading to the car waiting out front.  

           It had been a long day, and of course, the Russians were still acting like babies. After everything though, he had enough of childish antics and put his foot down, effectively ending their tirade and sending them on their way. After finishing the last of the paperwork, Mycroft finally turned in, thanking Anthea once again for her help that morning, and heading out to the waiting car. It was nearing seven by time he was able to get home, walking in the front door and setting his things down, shedding his coat and toeing off his shoes. The roast had been put back on, that much he could smell, but there were loud slams that drew his attention. Walking to the kitchen, a deep frown creased his forehead as he saw Sherlock sulking around, snooping through the cupboards and Gregory was just standing by warming dinner. 

           “Good evening dear,” Mycroft pressed a quick kiss to the other’s cheek, keeping an eye on Sherlock. “What exactly do you think you are doing snooping through the kitchen Sherlock?” His tone was sharper as he addressed his little brother, knowing the other would ignore him.

           “It’s his third full cycle through the kitchen since I got home, My. Why don’t you two go play chess or some game I’ve never heard of before because it doesn’t exist anymore?” Gregory snorted a laugh as both Mycroft and Sherlock glared at him. “Oh come on, I know it’s happened. Don’t look at me like that. Now, both of you, out of the kitchen so I can finish up and get dinner sorted.” 

           “I am through playing games with Sherlock, seeing as my brother doesn’t respect us or our home. Go back downstairs, we will bring you dinner when it is finished.” Mycroft was still sharp, still bitter with his brother and the ‘games’ Sherlock liked to play. When the other didn’t leave, he moved over to his side and grabbed the man’s arm, pushing him towards the stairs. 

           “My,” Gregory called softly, looking a tad worried which only irritated him further. Sherlock was fine, he was just being difficult. Directing him down and shutting the door behind them, Mycroft followed his brother down into the lower suite. 

           “You are not to be in the kitchen, not to be anywhere but this suite, and you are not to snoop through my house. I could just leave you out there to riddle yourself with drugs, to destroy yourself slowly, but unfortunately, I can’t do that for Gregory’s sake, or for John’s.” Mycroft watched, noting the short moment when Sherlock hesitated, the focus clear in his eyes. “I know where he is, Sherlock. I have made arrangements to keep him safe. He has planned to come back here, to London, and sooner or later you two will meet. He’ll see you in the papers when you work with the police, or when you cause a scene, but somehow, he will find his way back to you this time.” 

           “Both of you, cut it out.” Mycroft heard Gregory shout from the top of the stairs, turning his head to look up at the other from where he stood. “My, dinner is ready. Sherlock, here’s yours. Please, for the love of God, don’t go trying to stab anyone with your fork or butter knife, yeah?” Mycroft gave Sherlock one last look before following Gregory back upstairs and shutting the door. Standing for a moment in the landing, he pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long sigh. Sherlock was making it nearly impossible to live a normal life with Gregory while he was under their roof, and they still had another week to suffer through. After a few moments, he walked into the kitchen and took a seat at the table, looking over to Gregory, his expressions showing how mentally and physically tired he was. 

           “There’s a new pathologist at Bart’s. She’s smart. I almost asked if she wanted to come work forensics for me in place of the jerk we hired about a month ago. Her name’s Molly, she’s like a human puppy. Don’t worry, I won’t try to bribe her with treats.” Gregory teased after a minute, obviously trying to lighten the mood. 

           “Yes. Mrs. Hooper, I do believe that I had mentioned having her work at Barts after she finished with her studies at University. She is a fantastic woman, very smart, and very passionate. I do wonder though, how she will fare against certain likes…” Mycroft’s features scrunched as he thought about his brother, noting the look on his lovers face as he did so. “I’m sorry I’m so tense love. Sherlock and I have not lived together since John, and he is a very different person when John is around.  _ This  _ version of my brother, he sets me on edge and tries to drive a wedge between you and I. He thinks that because he is doing ‘better’ without John, not in as much pain, that everyone should be that way, so I should stop trying with you. He has tried ever since he lost John to separate us.” 

           “That may be, but I’m here and I’m not going to let your brother get between us. With that said, you don’t need to snap at him like you do….” Gregory’s voice was soft, but Mycroft could tell that it bothered him when they fought. “I know it’s impossible to say don’t worry about Sherlock, but I promise it will work itself out. He’s only doing this to get under your skin.” 

           “Yes, well it is working,” Mycroft rolled his eyes, taking a few bites of food as he sighed, trying to let go of that stress from his brother. 

           “Maybe I can distract you darling,” His heart fluttered when the other teased him, the man’s leg running along the inside of his own as Gregory pulled his fork out slowly from between his lips and gave him a heated glance. It lost all credibility when the other started laughing and wasn’t able to keep a straight face. 

           “Maybe you could, if you could keep a straight face about you,” Mycroft purred, letting his legs fall apart slightly, biting his lower lip and winking at the other as he licked his silverware clean. “I know you have a desert planned, but I just want you now. I think bringing chocolate and wine to bed sounds delightful, and we can just see how the night goes?” 

            “Well, I’ll never say no to chocolates.” Gregory hummed, resting his hand on his thigh, his thumb tracing small circles along the inside of his leg. Smiling, Mycroft helped the man clean up after dinner and grabbed the sweets and wine before heading up the stairs, setting them down on the nightstand before turning to the other. Gregory had already snuck a piece of chocolate and was popping it into his mouth with a smirk, leaning in close to kiss him. The taste of the other mixed with sweets was intoxicating, and Mycroft was putty in the other’s hands. Their clothes fell off bit by bit, their hands roaming and exploring, slowly but with heat behind them as well. He was thoroughly distracted, letting Gregory take control and it wasn’t until it was too late, did he notice that his hands were now being secured into cuffs above his head. “You, my darling, for all that I love you, have been a right little berk today, and I think you deserve to be put in time out, just like this,” Mycroft looked to the other with disbelief as he pulled away, that mischievous grin on his face. He let out a soft groan as Gregory raked his nails down his chest and started speaking in that domineering tone that always went straight to his groin. “I’d also watch that smart mouth of yours too, before I take that from you as well,” Naturally Gregory was a soft, gentle and loving person, but push the right buttons and his lover was an aggressive, passionate man. He kept his eyes trained on him as the man took a sip from the wine bottle and stood at his feet. Raising a brow, Mycroft wondered just how far the other would go, and decided to test his limits just a bit. 

            “As you wish master,” There was a hint of snark from him as he smiled, challenging the other and waiting for his lover to make the next move. 

           “You think your honeyed words will help you now?” Mycroft raised his chin, giving the other a rather defiant look. “Always having to have everything on your terms, well you’re not doing that tonight. I get my way, and you… simply accept.” Gregory purred, settling his hand flat against his chest, just below his neck. “I ought to get more cuffs to tie your ankles down too… teach you a lesson in patience. I’m going to have my own pleasure tonight, and once I’ve decided that you’ve behaved yourself well enough, I’ll let you join in. Until then… you’re just going to watch,” He was going to feign indifference, maybe make the other work for it, but all thoughts of that were thrown out the window as he watched Gregory press those thick fingers into himself and moan, the sound so delicious and dirty that his breath hitched and his cheeks burned. Swallowing hard, Mycroft tried to not let it show how much the other was affecting him, trying to keep his expression schooled. What he really wanted was to be the one pressing those fingers in, eliciting those moans and feeling that tight heat around him, but all he could do was grasp the chain of the cuffs and wait as patiently as he could. “Always acting like behaving means you have to be silent. If it wasn’t for the fact that I can see how much you want me, I’d think I was boring you.” Mycroft was breathing through his mouth now, trying to control himself, but his eyes were blown wide as he watched the other work himself over, his neglected prick laying heavy against his stomach. “Use your words love. Tell me what you want. Tell me what you need. Talk to me.” He took a moment to think his word choice over carefully, wanting to make sure he said the right things to get the other going, and have him come back to him sooner. Mycroft didn’t lose control, and even when he appeared to do so, it was still reigned in. Nothing had quite pushed him over that edge yet, or broke him, but he always waited to see if the next time would be it. 

           “I want those thick fingers working me open, pushing roughly into me, hitting that sweet spot as I arch my back off the bed in ecstasy. I want to feel your thick, delicious cock inside of me, fitting perfectly in a way that only you could, as you pound me, use me, and give me everything till I’m a babbling mess. I want you to make me finish without even having to touch my prick. I want to have you take control, to be rough…” 

           “Then what am I doing all this for?” Gregory asked with a fake pout, gasping as he pressed his fingers in a bit more. “I want my pleasure and you want to be used, so you’ll just have to wait to get fucked, because I believe I was first in line.” Mycroft’s heart quickened as he watched Gregory straddle his waist and he had to stop himself from twitching into the other’s touch as he wrapped a hand around him and lined himself up. Slowly, as Gregory pressed himself down, his jaw dropped and his breath hitched as his lids grew heavy and his eyes rolled back. “Fuck, you’re massive, love, all the way in me just like that…” Hearing Gregory’s words through the haze of pleasure, he tried to shift and move his legs so he could thrust up into the other, get things moving, but of course, his partner was one step ahead pressing him back down with a warning. “Naughty boys don’t get to play, you know that. You will stay still and get exactly what I give you, and every time you act up, I’ll stop. You may ask permission, but I make the decisions, understand?” So this was how he was going to play, well he wasn’t about to beg just yet, and he wasn’t read to give in either. 

           “Of course master,” Mycroft decided to get a bit cheeky, giving the other a smirk and raising a brow as he wiggled his hips a little. He could see the storm behind Gregory’s eyes, the man was deciding whether or not to push him, and he thought he had won until the other pulled off and sat on his stomach. Well that hadn’t worked… 

           “I told you. You’re not very good at behaving are you?” Gregory warned, setting a hand on his chest. “You speak such pretty words, but that’s not going to work on me. Do I need to silence you too?” Opting not to speak, Mycroft kept his expression guarded and just gave a small shake of his head, hoping it would placate the other to continue. “I will make the decisions, do you understand?” Nodding, he decided not speaking in general was better. “You always say you want me to dominate, let me love,” Letting out a soft moan, Gregory slipped back down on him and he had to try hard not to move. There was one part of this, the feeling of it all that was fantastic, but watching Gregory pleasure himself on his own cock, that was far hotter than he had expected, and it got his heart racing. He really wanted to reach out and grab those hips, but the cuffs were still holding him back. “That’s my boy. Is that really so hard, love? Just to sit back and let me take care of it all?” This was torture, and Gregory knew it. He didn’t want to sit back, relax, and have a soft love making session. This was supposed to be make up sex. Some of the best that he had ever experienced was right after a fight, but this was slow, teasing torture. If he had his way, Mycroft would be grabbing the man’s waist, leaving bruises on his skin and using him until they were both crying out and then to do it all over again until they couldn’t take it any longer. He wasn’t going to say any of that though. “Am I boring you? All you have to do is prove that you can behave yourself. I have my plans for you, dearest, if you’ll let me. I’ll be fucking myself on your cock until you fill me, then it’ll be your turn to get used. I’ll happily have you as hard as you want, but you have to earn it first.” It took a moment for him to be able to form a sentence without snipping, but he managed to clench his jaw and speak. 

            “Not boring in the least. I thought I was behaving myself, dearest,” Keeping a level head, that was all he had to do. What more beyond having to endure this slow, agonising torture would he have to do to be considered well behaved? Though he didn’t dare ask that question, knowing it would possibly earn him a step backwards. Gregory knew exactly how he was getting under his skin, and that was even more frustrating than the slow pace he was setting, but he had to take it. Mycroft had a strong will though, and was still holding out. 

           “My, you can speak and still behave darling,” It was hard to hold onto the frustration and his resolve when the other suddenly picked up the pace, dropping down harder and harder onto his cock and making his head roll back in pleasure. “Oh, fuck, Mycroft, you feel so good. Just like that.” Little moans and whimpers escaped his lips as he held on, his wrists feeling a tad raw from the cuffs, but the pain at least gave him something. He could tell Gregory wasn’t going to last much longer, the look on his face and the telling clench of his muscles giving him away. Mycroft had to fight hard not to trust up and meet him with every drop the other made. “Come for me, My, Please.” Watching Gregory lose control and come without being touched, it sent him over the edge and he was never more grateful for the fantastic memory that he had than he was in that moment. Letting out a groan, Mycroft shivered as he came, Gregory’s muscles milking his orgasm as he finally let himself rock into the other, not able to keep still. Panting he looked up to the other, Gregory’s expression soft and satisfied as he smiled. 

          “Happy love?” He questioned. 

          “Yeah, I am. You?” 

          “I can tell by the look in your eyes that I will be damn well satisfied when you are done with me, and that makes me very happy,” Mycroft chuckled and watched as the other moved to release him from the cuffs. 

          “I love you. I’ll give you what you want in a bit, once I can get my legs back under me again.” Mycroft smiled, letting out a sigh of relief when his hands were released and he was able to wrap his arms around the other. 

          “Don’t worry about how quickly you get to that point love, we have all night,” Kissing the top of his lover’s head, Mycroft closed his eyes for a bit, just glad that they were no longer fighting. 

          “I love you.” 

          “I love you too darling.” He hummed contentedly. 

          “Hell, you haven’t had any wine yet, have you? I locked you up first before I got some.” 

          “No, I did not, you surprised me and locked me up before I could take a sip,” Mycroft teased, letting the other reach and grab the sweets and wine before feeding them to him. “If we keep this up, we might not have a round two with you drinking like a fish,” He said after a while, taking the bottle from the other and setting it on the night stand. “Don’t want performance issues now do we?” Mycroft grabbed the other’s chin between his thumb and pointer finger, giving it a little shake. 

          “Stop that,” Gregory laughed, pulling away from him before reaching over and pinning him to the bed. “You’re the ancient one here, mister. I should be worried about you.” His lover murmured, teasing little bites along his chest. “So, you still want that hard and fast you’re always looking for? My silly man?”

          “Oh, so I have to put up with your ridiculous obsession of kissing my nose, but you can’t handle that?” Mycroft chuckled, letting out a huff of surprise when the other pinned him down and started attacking his neck and collar bones, his laughs turning into soft gasps as Gregory nipped and licked all the sensitive spots. 

          “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying,” 

          “Just because I am over two thousand, does not mean I act it. You remember, if we go by the age I stopped at, I am younger than you my silver fox.” Mycroft purred, starting to feel the heat return to his groin slowly, his hips canting upwards. “I will always want it hard and fast from you.” 

          “All your technicalities,” Gregory muttered, letting go of his wrists to trail kisses further south, skipping over his cock before lifting his legs to sit on his shoulders. His hands going to the sheets as he groaned, feeling that sinful tongue slide over his entrance. 

          “Gods, Gregory, after all your teasing and slow torture tonight, everything you do from here on our is going to feel ten times more enticing than normal. I swear, if you keep me on edge, there will be consequences,” Mycroft threatened before letting out another moan as the man swiped his tongue over the flesh again. 

          “You keep saying that like you’ll push me to act fast, though all it’s making me want to do it keep at this and see what you have in mind. Or do I need to lock you up again? I certainly wouldn’t mind…” 

          “Try it and see what happens,” Mycroft warned, his voice deep and his eyes dark as he looked down to the other, knowing that he had endured his punishment, and now he wanted to enjoy Gregory taking him apart, bit by rough bit, using him for everything that he had, and maybe, finally, making him lose himself to it all. “You can have control, but you better do something fast and use me like you said you would or I will make sure you can’t walk or sit down for the next three weeks, and that you look like you were mauled not by just one vampire, but a while pack. What would your team think of that my dear?” He growled, looking down at where the other lay. 

           “Roll over and get up on your knees. Always so many threats, one of these days I will get you a gag and shut you up.” 

           “I don’t think you could ever get me to stop talking back Gregory, unless you have some magic trick up your sleeve that I haven’t seen yet. That’s a challenge to take, especially after two thousand years. I know you can go rough, and I bet you are planning on just fucking me hard without prep, and I won’t deny, that would be lovely, but give me something new, something really different and give me the one thing I haven’t had to date.” Mycroft raised a brow, looking over his shoulder. “Make me lose control completely.” Gregory paused, looking to him and he could practically see the gears turning in his head. Without warning, the other’s hand crashed down over his arse, the sting fresh on his skin as he groaned, the other rubbing his hand over the abused flesh and doing it again. 

           “Give me my cuffs,” He commanded, landing another smack on his arse. Letting out another groan, he quickly grabbed them, handing it to Gregory and watched to see what he had in mind, but whatever he thought it could have been, he hadn’t expected Gregory to cuff himself before placing his hands on Mycroft shoulders, the chain rubbing against his neck lightly.  “How well do you think you can keep yourself upright while I fuck you?” He would have responded, if he hadn’t choked as the other pressed that thick cock into him, the sting of pain and sweet pleasure melting together. Some days he was grateful that he had a higher threshold for pain than mortals, like now when he really wanted the other to use him. It helped too that he didn’t have to worry about small injuries like mortals, because that meant that Gregory could really go all out and there was little fear that he would actually do any damage. His lover was setting a fast pace, and he could feel the heat coiling tight in his stomach as the other used the cuffs to keep him in the right position so he could hit his sweet spot every time. Moaning and throwing his head back, he was so close, and it was only going to take a few more thrusts for him to finish, that was till Gregory stilled himself. Frowning, he looked back at the other as he panted, seeing that glint in his lovers eye. “Breathe, love… we’re not dont just yet. Like you said, we have all night yet in front of us.” So this was what his game was… intriguing. Mycroft gave the other a smirk, wondering who would cave first, Gregory or himself?

           They had officially fallen back down, and the burn was slow as Gregory start to pick up the pace again, those lovely teeth nipping his skin leaving traces of heat as he trailed along his neck. After a few moments, there was a pressure on his neck as he felt the chain bring his attention up. 

           “How long can you hold your breath do you think?” Letting out a moan, Mycroft kept his head up, breathing hard as he felt the pressure of the cold metal against his heated skin. Gods this was hot. Never had he expected Gregory to be into this sort of thing, or to even dare to go near it, but just the subtle hints, the teasing and implied threats, they quickly added to the pleasure building in his groin. They were at it again, and the pressure was building, he could feel himself teetering, but Gregory stopped them again. “Don’t,” His lover hissed, tightening the chain just slightly, pulling him up to that his back pressed against his lover's chest. “Don’t you dare come until I tell you. I’m not half finished with you yet.” Gregory growled, stilling his hips and letting them come down. “That’s my good boy, just like that. How many times do you think you can go, do you think? Five, maybe six more times?” 

           “As long as you can last, my heart,” Mycroft growled, trying to control his breathing. Honestly, he wasn’t sure how many times he could do this, as he was already starting to feel a bit desperate. He heard Gregory laughing as the tip of the man’s tongue trailed along the shell of his ear, his hips starting to move again and the chain shifting so his hand was now pressing against his throat. 

          “Is this what you want when you think of me?” Those thick fingers now were around his neck, the cool chain still brushing against his skin as the other moved. 

          “God, yes, Gregory,” Mycroft groaned as the other raked his nails down his chest, shivering as he felt the heat starting to boil again. Each time they did this, the time between completely cooled down, and about to tip got shorter. Unfortunately, he couldn’t control his body as it betrayed him, and the other noticed again that he was getting close, stopping and letting them cool down again as a whimper left his lips. He was practically losing count after a few more times, his body shaking and his resolve breaking, but he could feel Gregory was getting there as well. 

           “Think you can last one more time, my love?” When he was asked, he almost sobbed, nodding that he was ready to finish, that he couldn’t take any more of this, that he just needed release. 

           “Yes, please, yes,” His voice was shaky as he waited, ready for this teasing to be through with. Mycroft had asked for something new, something to break him, and he was rather close to losing it all. As Gregory took up the task again, thrusting into him, he let himself go, let himself revel in the pleasure, the heat coiling, his prick weeping, and he knew, this time he would find release. It would crash over him, wave after beautiful wave, and just as he was whimpering, teetering on that edge, Gregory stopped once more. “No, no… no…” Mycroft muttered, his whole body desperate, crying, begging and desperate for more. “Gregory, please, love, I can’t, I need you, please, let me finish, please love, I’m begging you.” He was gone, all resistance broken, all control gone. He was desperate, begging, willing to do anything for Gregory, he just wanted release.

           “Do you think you’ve earned your release?” The D.I Growled in his ear, holding the chain tight against his throat. 

          “Yes, please, my heart, my love, my life, let me finish for you, please, I need this, I need you…” He babbled, his muscles aching and his body desperate for an end. He never thought he would be this lost and wanting. When Gregory started moving hard and fast without reserve, Mycroft started whimpering, babbling this thanks and praise as the other brought him closer and closer to release. Mycroft never had an orgasm hit him this hard, his pleasure coming down, his vision going white. His voice was a choked sob as he felt Gregory work him over, taking everything from him and milking him for every last drop. When the chain was moved from around his neck, Mycroft collapsed, panting and trying to regain his thoughts or any semblance of his mind, closing his eyes and laying down, just blocking everything else out. When his partner called him, Mycroft groaned as he rolled over, pressing against the man’s chest and relaxed into the other’s embrace. 

          “Love you, so, so much.” 

          “Love you as well my heart,” His voice was rough, not only from the babbling and the pleading, but a little from the chain. He was shocked and surprised and absolutely enamored by the dominant side he saw from his lover tonight. 

          “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Gregory asked softly, lifting his chin up so they could look at one another. The man checked him over, trailing a few soft kisses along the reddened skin on his neck. 

          “No love, it was brilliant.” He smiled, his heart swelling with love as the other showed concern. “Exactly what I had asked for,” 

          “While that was amazing, I don’t want to fight again to get here, on purpose or any other way. We can play like this again, but… maybe when I get better at getting out of these things on my own. Can you help me?” Chuckling, Mycroft reached up and easily made work of the cuffs, toss them on the nightstand before curling in close again to the other. “I think I’d like to get a shower before we pass out from all of that, and I’m going to need a good excuse for the sore muscles I’ll have tomorrow at the office.” A hot shower did sound nice, but he would have to wait a moment as he was still recovering after that, his legs still feeling like jelly. 

          “Not sure what your excuse will be, but I’m not going to help with that, darling. That’s my payback to you,” Mycroft gave the other a soft grin, placing a few light kisses on his lovers lips. “It is so good to have you back, here with me, no matter what we go through. I’m glad to know that no matter how hard Sherlock tries, we always stay strong.” 

          “My dear Mycroft. You’ll always have me. I swear it,” The best part was, that he knew that was true, and he couldn’t be more grateful to have a man like Gregory at his side. 


	25. XXIV

 

           Greg knew it was childish to sulk with his back to Mycroft who was getting ready for bed, but along with keeping their word to not have secrets, he found out far earlier than he would have wanted that there was no way this year that Mycroft would be in town for their two year anniversary. While Greg could begrudgingly agree that it was better to know a month ahead of time instead of a week before, all it did was allow for his frustration to build even though nothing could be done. Not only was the politician not going to be around, but he wasn’t even going to be in the same country for a couple weeks. Sighing heavily as he felt the mattress dip under Mycroft’s weight as he came to bed, he waited for the man to turn off his lamp before rolling back to his side, a faint smile tugging at his lips against his will when he felt his partner murmur his love in Latin as he wrapped him in his arms to fall asleep. 

> _ He was in pain. He could barely move, and even the windows thrown open to let in the Venice salty breeze did nothing to help him catch his breath. Mycroft was there beside him with a damp cloth to fight the fever that had overtaken him, and they were both still pretending that it was just the flu. Coughing hard and feeling blood rise against the back of his throat, he tried to ignore the fear in his husband’s eyes as he struggled to breathe, each breath tighter and moving less air than the one before. Greg wanted to tell Mycroft one last time that he loved him, that there was so much they were still supposed to do, wanting to hear more of his stories of Germany, France, Rome and London… So many things they were supposed to do and he couldn’t breathe. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t, only knowing that Mycroft’s hand in his was fading away along with the pain until there was simply nothing left but a hard, heavy weight on his chest that wouldn’t allow him to breathe anymore.  _

          Greg scrambled awake with a gasp, nearly sick with the taste of blood still lingering in his mouth until he realised his nose was bleeding again. Grabbing a tissue and pressing it tight against his lip to keep from making a mess of the sheets, Greg considered shaking Mycroft awake, but quickly decided against it when he realised it was just shy of two in the morning, instead simply doing his best to control his shaking and to slow his breathing with the realisation that he was on the border of hyperventilating. It was just a dream. An awful, horrible memory that he certainly didn’t need, but that was all. He was okay, he had to be. 

           “Gregory? Dear? Are you alright?” Mycroft’s voice was heavy with sleep and it took a moment before the politician sat up and turned on the bedside lamp. Flinching at the bright light that flooded their room, the both of them worked on properly waking up instead of being in a disoriented panic of fog while they tried to sort out what was happening. “Love, it’s alright, you’re safe here, at home,” There was really no point in lying that it had just been a dream, even the blind could see through that lie, but Greg told himself not to feel guilt over how long it took for him to speak up seeing as he was still struggling to get his breathing back under control. Though, being held close to Mycroft did help that matter quite a bit as it gave him something to anchor to. 

           “I-I had a dream… or a memory. Nightmare? I guess a memory. I…  _ we…  _ we were in Venice, and I…” Greg allowed his voice to trail off, figuring that Mycroft had figured out what he was trying to hint towards when the man pulled him closer and buried his face into his neck. 

           “It’s okay love, you’re here now, you’re okay.” Mycroft cooed, bringing him closer and kissing the top of his head. Greg swallowed thickly as he leaned against the man’s side, though he had to tug away again as he gagged at the lingering taste of blood in his throat. 

          “I-sorry. I feel like I’m about to be sick from this.” He murmured, gesturing towards his nose as he pulled the tissue away and shifted it around to continue to try and stem off the flow, which was blessedly starting to slow down on its own as well. Carefully standing to step into the bathroom for a moment, Greg cupped some water from the sink into his mouth, trying to get everything to go away for now, though he was sure it wouldn’t be that easy. He took a few minutes in the bathroom, splashing a bit of water on his face as well once the worst of the bleeding was done, and sorting himself out. He had dealt with nightmares before, he could even remember being a teen and having a dream that he understood now was a memory, of him being simply very, very old and passing away from that, but even though that was unnerving at the time, it was nothing like this. Nowhere near as violent, though perhaps it was also partially due to the fact that Greg knew this was a specific death that had haunted Mycroft to this day. Returning to the bed and waiting for Mycroft, wherever he had gone off to, he couldn’t help but pull a slight face at the camomile tea that the man offered out to him.

           “Here, drink this, it will help, I promise.” Instead of arguing, he just reached out and sipped at it as he was told, thanking the other and surprised at how much he liked it versus what he had been expecting. 

           “How do you do it?” Greg asked after a while, finally breaking the silence once he had finished his cup of tea and allowed for Mycroft to take it and put it aside, sliding back under the blankets and inviting the other to join him. In his line of work, he handled death all the time, personally coping with it by doing his absolute best to solve every case he was given. He had been relatively lucky that he never really had to handle death personally in his family. His mother’s parents had passed when he was relatively young from old age, which had been hard, yes, but it was expected. His dad’s father had passed before he was born, and so now it was just his Mémé. To have the love of your life pass away again and again in front of you without being able to do anything to stop it, that would be hell. “Was it always like that?”

           “I almost didn’t make it after that time. You were gone for three hundred and sixteen years before I found you again. I thought I had lost you forever.” Mycroft’s voice almost cracked, his arms curling a tad tighter around him. “Usually, Anthea and Ryan are there to pull me out of my catatonic states and help me get back on my feet, but it hurts like hell. There is always a small gap, but it’s never too terribly long before you are back, but that particular time, you were taken long before you should have been, and I feared I’d never see you again. It has never been that way before, you have never died of anything other than old age, but the Plague did not discriminate and took all it could get it’s hands on.” Swallowing hard, Mycroft took a few deep breaths. “I almost lost my mind, lost the will to live. I had become a shut in for nearly two centuries, and Anthea and Ryan, bless their hearts, did their best to bring me around for so long. I still wasn’t in the best state when we finally found you, but they had convinced me to leave Venice earlier, knowing that I couldn’t stay there after what had happened. I nearly broke down when I found you again, and I think I almost scared you away.” Greg didn’t know what to say or do as he listened to Mycroft, driven by his own morbid curiosity, though it hurt to hear of his lover so broken compared to who he was now. THen again, it did make some sense when he looked to Sherlock, and the harsh reality of what he really dealt with after having him in their house for three weeks. 

           “I don’t remember, but I could imagine.” Greg tried to joke along with Mycroft as he closed his eyes, trying to relax again back towards sleep, but he was quickly run over by his memories of the pain and choking, a tiny flinch flashing through his body as he forced himself awake again and clung a bit tighter to Mycroft’s sleep shirt. “Where did you go? After Venice?” 

           “I escaped to Oia. It was peaceful, warm, and I could be alone, and when it started to get a little easier, I moved back to Italy, but I stayed in Monteriggioni, but that didn’t last long before Anthea and Ryan convinced me to stay with them in London. Oia has always been my escape, along with Nice, they were two of the places I always felt safe, and that’s the reason I still have homes there.” Greg hummed softly, making himself focus on what they had here and now, the warmth of their bed and the sound of Mycroft’s steady heartbeat under his ear while the man’s voice reverberated through his chest as he spoke. It felt a bit childish, but then again Greg had just had the hell scared out of him, so he didn’t feel too guilty. The worst of his panic had finally passed, and while he was still a bit shaky, Greg reached up to link his hand with Mycroft’s and pull it down to cradle against his chest. 

            “I’m glad you had an escape, and Anthea and Ryan to keep you sane. I just.. Hadn’t considered the extent of what remembering would be.” 

            “I really should have warned you about that one, it’s just that you have never remembered your death before, so I sort of hoped it was something that you didn’t remember till you stayed permanently. Then again, I’m not sure how to prepare you for something like that, and I’m not even certain how it will feel. That might be something you could talk to Ryan or father about, and then if you have any specific worried or questions, I could always go over it with you.” He nodded, running his thumb over Mycroft’s finger as he considered everything the other had said. He had a number of questions about Sherlock, but it didn’t feel right to bring them up just now, not while Mycroft’s voice was still tight as he spoke. 

            “How did you know the camomile tea would help? I never had the stuff before ‘cause I always have coffee if I had a choice,” Greg joked softly, though that was also because most of the time it was a need for caffeine. 

            “The tea always works, has century after century. My mom passed it on the first time I found you again and you had memories.” Greg hummed as he considered what Mycroft said about his memories and talking to others about it, but what could they possibly do? Sure they could sympathize, but this was certainly one of those things he would rather not think about at all until he absolutely had to. Laughing softly at the tea, Greg lifted his hand to his lips, his eyes drifting shut and luckily he wasn’t hit by the same onslaught of memories as before. 

            “You said… it’s harder to find your mate as time passes. What… what about Sherlock and John? I know you’ve said  _ you  _ know where he is, but… can they forget? Not click? I don’t… I mean, you don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to…” 

           “You can mess it up, you can cause them to hate you, or not like you, or drive them towards someone else, which is why I was so… strange the first time we met. Luckily, this had been the only time where that had happened for us, and it seems to have worked out in my favour.” Mycroft chuckled. “There have been immortals who cannot or do not find their mates and their chances of finding the other gets slimmer each time. Though I have seen some couples where all it takes is once and they have lost them. I’m not sure how Sherlock has had such luck over the centuries, after a couples lives without John. The man is still appearing, but I fear that his luck will run out, hence why I am trying to get John to find Sherlock this time around.” Greg frowned slightly as Mycroft told him about how it could be lost if they mess up bad enough, settling back against his lover’s chest with a sigh and drawing little mindless doodles across the other’s chest with his fingers. 

           “Do you ever find another mate? Is it possible for someone?” He asked after a while, pressing his palm flat on Mycroft’s chest as he tried to sort out half the thoughts and partial questions he held to make proper sense. “I married Caroline because I felt like it was what I was supposed to do. I was forty and still dating, and she made me happy enough and I loved her enough that I figured there was nothing to lose. It sounds horrible, but… that’s what it was. I’m sure you already know this, but it has to be a natural way John and Sherlock meet, or Sherlock will reject it like the stubborn arse he is. I don’t know how we’ll do that, but… otherwise, it just won’t work.” 

            “I’ve never actually heard of another immortal finding someone other than their original mate after they are gone. I am aware that they will have to meet naturally, but I have a feeling that their mutual connections at Bart’s will come in handy. The good doctor will need a place to stay when he returns, so maybe at that time we can have Sherlock finally move to a respectable place and suggest he have a flatmate to share the rent.” Greg hummed as he pulled himself up just enough to press a soft kiss to Mycroft’s lips, smiling as he pulled away and settled back on his pillow again. 

            “Don’t worry about them for now. You’ll have plenty of time to do it later, let’s just go to sleep again. We both still have work in the morning.” He murmured, still keeping close to Mycroft’s side as they fell asleep again, blessedly this time without any more dreams to scare him awake. 

 

           Greg felt better by time he absolutely had to get up in the morning, but still not great. His heart did melt though, when he went down to the kitchen and found a thermos of camomile tea waiting for him along with his normal mug of coffee. Sending a quick text saying his thanks to Mycroft, Greg made his way down to the Yard, already running through the case he knew would be waiting for him. He’d been called to a rather gory triple homicide a few days ago, and while it didn’t feel quite right, everything pointed to the local restaurant owner, Angelo, as the culprit. Previous arguments, debts to one another, everything lined up and pointed to the man, but something was missing. Stepping onto the floor of his office and immediately seeing Sherlock, Greg could already feel the tension headache starting to build in his temples as he walked up and let the other man in, dropping himself heavily into his chair. 

           “Go on, what do you have that I’m wrong about this time?” He asked flatly, sipping at his tea and willing himself to relax. 

           “Angelo. He’s innocent, well, sort of. He didn’t murder those victims, he was nowhere near the scene when it happened. He was actually in the next neighborhood robbing a house. Yes, I know that look, that’s why I said he was sort of innocent. He didn’t commit triple homicide, and he understands that he will have to turn himself in for that, but the time is much better than homicide if I’m not mistaken. I have proof that he was in fact where he claims, and I’m sure the CCTV outside of that neighborhood will also confirm his whereabouts. Now, if you wish for help on the triple homicide, I can assist with that as well,” Greg sighed heavily as Sherlock told him about Angelo’s alibi, nearly laughing when he said that he was innocent because he was breaking into a house instead. It certainly was an odd one, but if it could be proven that the man wasn’t there, then so be it. 

            “Yeah, yeah, fine. I’m not particularly in the mood to content with those pictures at the moment anyway,” He added, turning away as he sneezed into his elbow, nearly gagging at the lingering blood from his nosebleed last night. Grabbing a few tissues and blotting it away, Greg noticed the slight concern on Sherlock’s face, almost believing that he was worried if it wasn’t for the fact that he was sure the man was more worried about not getting cases over his health. “Apparently when I remember something in depth, I get nose bleeds. Only last night I remembered a death of mine. Would not recommend it. Anyway, we need to get a time line and the proof for Angelo, and that is by far the worst alibi I have ever heard of but alright. I will contact theft and see what they’ve got that can connect him over. Now if you’ll save me the humiliation of asking for you help again, I’ll call you once I’ve got it sorted.” Greg sighed, sipping at his tea again to try and rid his mouth of the copper taste lingering in the back of his throat. 

            “Is this all the information you have on the case?” Sherlock took the folder off his desk, filtering through and scowling, before handing it back. “I will need to see the scene, even if it is cleaned up, and access to the lab,” Standing, Sherlock straightened his jacket and looked to him. “Yes, yes, text me the details, I don’t do calls.” 

             “Thanks, by the way, for the help. You’re a great man, you know.” Greg sighed as he watched Sherlock leave, considering calling out after him to be nice to Molly, but at the same time he knew it would be useless. Taking a moment to finish his tea and stop the nosebleed, the D.I poured over his files as he tried to figure out what they could have missed with Angelo. Greg knew their case against the man was solely circumstantial, but looking at it all again without the man’s name attached, he worked hard to start painting a new picture of what had happened based solely on the hard facts of the scene. It didn’t really give them a new suspect, but it did start to give them a timeline to work from. 

> **Have a time frame for you. Prove Angelo was busy from 2300 - 0400 and we can prove he wasn’t the murderer. - GL**
> 
> **Don’t have anyone else as my suspect, though. I’m relying on you for this. - GL**
> 
> **_CCTV, Lauriston Rd. London E9 7HA. You will find him there. - S_ **
> 
> **_I already have a profile, if you give me access to the database, or anyone near that area, I can pin him for you. - S_ **

             Greg chuckled to himself when Sherlock gave him the address of the house Angelo had stolen from, it not taking much time at all to pull the footage and finish piecing together that case to send back over to theft. They even had a bit of a laugh over how odd of an alibi it was, but the sentence was definitely a fraction of what he could have been facing. Thinking of snipping at Sherlock to give him the information instead, or to do the case write up himself, Greg could only imagine what nightmare of a reivew the man would submit if he did let him and decided to send over his login credentials. He made sure to stay on as well though so he would know if Sherlock started to screw around with things he shouldn’t be, the D.I was simply relieved that they had their real murdered sort out instead. 

> **We will need to arrest Angelo, unless he’s willing to come turn himself in. I’ll submit the arrest warrant for our murderer tonight and we’ll get him tomorrow. - GL**
> 
> **_Angelo is just getting his affairs in order and will turn himself into the NSY in the morning. - S_ **

            He was relieved that they had their man for the murder, a Frank Hudson, who apparently had a few warrants out for his arrest in connection to drugs as well. Hoping that Sherlock wouldn’t find himself tempted with their latest case, but trusting that the simple mention wouldn’t be enough to throw him off the wagon. Greg was nearly home when his phone started to ring, surprised to see that it was Mycroft, though his smile started to fade when he heard his introduction. 

            “Good evening my love. I am afraid this isn’t a social call, but instead, our departments will be working together on the recent homicide case that you solved.” 

            “About Angelo or Hudson?” He asked, slightly confused and not sure as to how the homicide had anything to do with something Mycroft had his hands in. “Thanks for letting me know and all, but unless it’s another extremely under-cover agent of yours, I really don’t see why your people are going to be taking over the case.” He admitted as he let himself into their townhouse and shrugged off his coat. “Then again, I mostly relied on Sherlock with this case, so he could have just skipped over some of the more important details as well.” 

            “Hudson. He’s not an undercover agent, but he has been on the international radar for awhile now. Apparently, he committed homicide in the United States as well, and as such, when you put an arrest in for him, the system pinged and Florida is now demanding he be sent back to be punished under their jurisdiction. There won’t be any need to keep you off this case, or to take it over, I just wanted to talk with you first as per our promise. The foreign entities will be demanding a transfer for him, and I’m guessing with their policies, Mr. Hudson will be given the death penalty there.” Greg hummed softly when Mycroft mentioned how the man would most likely get the death penalty, wanting instinctively to fight against it, but keeping quiet. The three murders he’d personally see were horrible, and if he had done the same in another country before, then there was no guarantee that he hadn’t done so before or wouldn’t do so again. 

            “I’m surprised Sherlock didn’t say anything. I’ll sign off what needs to be done then. We’re planning on sending out a team to arrest him tomorrow, so I’ll put them on alert of what the plan is just in case he tries to run. Free trip to Florida, sounds like fun,” Greg said with a sarcastic laugh, sitting down at one of the bar stools with a heavy sigh. He still needed to figure out something for dinner, but at this point he would be perfectly happy ordering cheap chinese take away or just have peanut butter toast and call it an early night. “How was your day? Sherlock actually behaved which is always nice.” 

            “I’m glad he’s cooperating then, but he more than likely kept quiet because he’s fond of the man’s wife, Mrs. Hudson. I think it was a personal favour to also have him caught if I’m quite honest, but I’m sure neither of them would say anything to the point. My day was slow and uneventful, which is actually a good thing. I can’t wait to be home with you tonight though and just relax. I will be home in about ten my love, and then we can pour ourselves some drinks and relax, and maybe, if you’re lucky, I will run a bath for you and give you a nice massage.” Greg huffed a soft laugh when he heard Mycroft request from his driver to get his favourite meal, knowing it wasn’t particularly on anyone’s diet nor was it particularly fancy, but it meant plenty to him that the politician was going out of his way to make him feel better. 

           “Sometimes slow is good, and having the night with you sounds amazing, though I wouldn’t recommend giving me a message in the bath unless you’re ready to carry me back to bed. I’ll probably be passed out the minute you start rubbing my back.” Greg said with a grin, toeing off his shoes at the counter and moving into the kitchen to get them both something to drink and plates for their dinner. “I love you, you know that? I really do. Though I’m exhausted and I’m sure either way I’ll be falling asleep on you before you’re ready to turn in.” 

           “Yes, well I had planned on giving you the massage in bed, as we both know I wouldn’t be able to carry you back.” Mycroft chuckled. There was a paused as the other spoke, and when he did the voice was right behind him and Greg had to scramble to make sure he didn’t drop and destroy his mobile. “I love you as well my heart. I brought your favourite,” 

            “Thank you,” He murmured, tilting his head to the side and humming softly at the feel of the man’s lips against his neck. He was still tired from the night before, but it was still nice to be so close with each other. Moving to plate their meal, which was just crappy beef lo mein because ever since Mycroft introduced him to actual Chinese food he realised the difference, but he liked it just for the comfort factor. Personally content to just eat his food out of the takeaway container but knowing he would get teased to no end since his chopstick skills were lacking as well, Greg dumped his food onto a plate before sitting down at the bar and digging in. “I’m glad you’re home for the night. Tomorrow’s going to be an odd day, I just know it.” 

             “And why would that be dear? Is it because of the homicide case or is something else going on?” 

            “Bit of both,” Greg admitted, twirling a few noodles around his fork to eat them a bit easier. “So Angelo, the guy who owns that Italian place Sherlock likes and has really good garlic knots?” He asked, waiting for Mycroft to nod before continuing. “He was originally being charged with the triple homicide, but Sherlock proved that he was breaking into someone else’s house instead. He’ll be turning himself in, in the morning, and then we’ll be going to arrest Hudson. With his rap sheet though, I’m thinking I might send out a few lads with vests to make sure he doesn’t try to add that to his sheet.” Greg sighed, finishing his water before happily allowing himself to be lead up to their bath. “I thought Mrs. Hudson was none the wiser, but according to you, she might have been.” 

             “I think you’d be surprised by her. She’s a very smart woman, and she puts up quite a fight,” Mycroft smiled. “I’ve seen her file and the woman has spunk. I’ve always thought that if one of her flat’s went up for rent, I would suggest Sherlock move in there, as I am sure she could keep him in line. Trouble is, Baker street is a good place and her units are always full.” Greg raised an eyebrow when Mycroft mentioned how he already read her file, shaking his head in amusement of how the man was always two steps ahead. When the bath was drawn, he slipped into the warm water and smiled to the other as he left, letting his eyes drift shut. “Take your time love, I’ll just be in the other room reading. When you get out, I’ll give you a nice back massage.” Greg found himself starting to drift in and out of a slight snooze until he slipped so far down the water was touching his chin. Grunting as he pushed himself up to make sure that he wouldn’t actually fall asleep in the tub, Greg wrapped himself in a towel before making his way back out to their bedroom and allowing himself to drop unceremoniously onto the mattress with a bounce, grinning at the annoyed grunt he received from Mycroft as he looked over him from over top his glasses. 

            “Love you, mean it.” 

            “Love you as well dear,” Greg sighed as Mycroft started to massage his back, a part of him wanting to ask when he could have possibly had the time to learn how to give such good massages, but then again, when you quite literally had all the time in the world, it was easy to become the master of any hobby. Easily falling asleep after a couple of minutes of Mycroft’s gentle and amazing attentions, Greg slept for a moment before blinking himself awake with a soft moan. “Come to sleep.” He murmured with a heavy yawn, gently tugging at Mycroft’s arm before nearly climbing onto him once he had settled into the sheets for the night. “Thank you for taking care of me when I’m under the weather. I definitely feel better now.” 

            “I will always take care of you my dear. Now, get some sleep because you are exhausted and we don’t need you passing out on the job, especially when you are going to arrest such a nasty man.” Mycroft kissed the top of his head, the man’s hands running up and down his back. “Love you my heart,” 


	26. XXV

          Greg stared at his glass of whiskey that he had poured himself the moment he had got home, his brain wanting to be drunk but his stomach didn’t want to handle the thought of anything in it at the moment. Mycroft had been away for a couple of weeks now, their anniversary having come and gone through a video chat diner, but today… well today had been stressful in the worst way possible. It was his day off and so Greg had decided to go out to the old hole-in-the-wall pub that he loved, but he knew that Mycroft didn’t particularly like. It was hysterical how out of place the politician had looked the one time he had gone with him, but either way, it was a place he didn’t suggest after that. It had been a joint that he and Caroline had enjoyed, and he wasn’t sure what he expected, but he had happened to run into her while he was there. They had been civil with one another for the most part, though he had quickly shut it down when she started asking for him to come back, even offering to try and have a family with him. It hurt that she only used that as a way to bribe him back, but Greg had simply walked away, telling her that he was done and just wanted his life to be his own again. 

         Setting his glass down untouched with a heavy sigh, Greg moved to get his computer and set it up before dialing in to Mycroft, knowing for a fact that his security had seen his little show down, as they had gone with him to the pub. The best that could happen was that Mycroft would understand, but with the stress the man had been under on his assignment, Greg wasn’t holding his breath. Greg wasn’t sure if he felt relieved or more stressed when Mycroft’s face appeared on his screen, though he did feel that same smile that only the politician could pull from him, fight it’s way onto his face. 

          “Good evening dear,” 

          “Hey, sweetie,” He greeted in return, wishing he could crawl through the computer and straight into Mycroft’s lap. Checking how he looked in the corner video of himself, he adjusted his computer before sitting back and simply watching over his lover before speaking again. “I miss you. I um… I went to that old pub I used to go to, the one you’re not a fan of? With some of the lads from security to see the footie game today. Well, uh, Caroline was there. Talked to her too, I mean, she came up first… either way we talked. It was fine until she started trying to convince me to come back to her. All the same promises she’s made before, only this time, she tried to say she’d give me a family too. I just, I can’t fucking believe she would do that! Even after I told her to leave and that I just wanted my divorce, she said all that and told me how she still needs my benefits and how if I were to divorce her, I’d be ruining her life. I told her to leave after that. I just… I miss you so much right now. Do you have any idea of when your return home date is now?” 

           “I miss you as well. If she is going to keep this charade up, I will just force the divorce through, as she doesn’t seem to respect your wishes. I do wish I could be there with you, and I hope that I can return within the week, if things would stop cropping up.” Mycroft sighed, running a hand over his face. 

           “My,” Greg sighed, trying not to fight with Mycroft, but feeling his own frustrations rise up as well. They were both stressed and had been sniping at each other for weeks, but they had both also been trying to understand that it was just the distance that was making it harder on each other. 

           “I do plan on taking a few days of absence when I come back home as all of this mess has frazzled my nerves.” 

           “I’m glad you’ll have a few days off once you get back. We can have an actual anniversary date and not just a digital one.” Greg said with a slight smile, not sure what else there was to say at the moment, though the tension was growing in the silence between them and wasn’t making anything any better. “My, I love you, but I don’t want to push this through. You know that. If she needs my benefits to go to hospital or whatever, then I’m not about to cut her off from that. I’m with you, you’re my husband, and that’s that. She just knows what usually works to get me to come back, but it’s not going to work this time around.” 

           “Well, she obviously doesn’t respect  _ your  _ wishes, and why should you pay for her to have access to benefits you work for? She receives free health care through the government, what more does she want?” Mycroft snipped, his nose scrunching as he started talking. “The woman is drawing this out in hopes that you will return, she is not doing this for any other reason. That is why she is trying to get you back by tempting you with children and such, it’s ludicrous, and it should have a stop put to it. As much as I love the sound of you calling me your husband, and that is what you are to me, legally you are not my husband. Caroline does not understand that it is over, nor does she respect you enough to let go after she treated you like rubbish. I’m sorry, I have stayed silent on this for quite some time, giving her the benefit of the doubt, but it has been two years Gregory, and she has made no sign that she will move on.” 

           “Mycroft…” Greg warned again, feeling his anger starting to rise as Mycroft went off on Caroline. It wasn’t that it was an attack on the woman, he understood the frustration as it was what he felt too, but the fact that Mycroft would say that she wasn’t respecting his wishes while doing the same with him, that made him mad. 

           “I’d pay for the benefits with or without her, My! She can actually go to the doctor instead of waiting six months for a follow-up! You can’t argue that she’s not respecting what I want when you’re talking about doing the one thing I’ve asked you not to do!” He argued, dragging a hand over his face and pinching the bridge of his nose as he usually did when he was having any sort of conversation with Sherlock. “I’m telling you this happened because we promised not to keep secrets from each other. Not that I’m going to leave you for her. I’m done with her, My, why won’t you just listen to me when I tell you that!” 

            “I do listen, I know you are done with her, romantically, but you still can’t let her go, you haven’t. You still allow her to act like a child and keep stringing you along, you allow her to use you even though she cheated on you and treated you like rubbish. You may not want to be with her, but you haven’t let her go, not just yet.” Greg sighed heavily, keeping his mouth shut because he wanted to yell but knew that would only make this worse. 

            “I’m sorry I care about other people besides you, Mycroft. I’m sorry I choose to use my money how I deem fit by helping someone even after they’ve hurt me, because that’s the decent thing to do.” He hissed, dropping his hand down to his lap and glaring at Mycroft on his screen. “I get it that you’re stressed doing whatever the hell you’re doing out there right now, but all I’m asking is that you trust me. I’m not doing anything, My!” 

            “Do not even try to play it like that Gregory, I am not just saying you should only care about me, don’t twist my words. I am saying that instead of moving on after your still wife had cheated on you, you are still holding onto her. I am not saying that you will go back to her, or that I worry you will cheat on me, so don’t keep telling me to trust you, because I do. What I am saying is that you haven’t let go of her, and can’t until she’s cut off, until you are no longer married to her, until she no longer uses you for her benefit. She doesn’t care about you, and it’s not a decent thing to do, she’s taking advantage of you because you are too kind. It’s a quality I admire in you, but you can’t just let people take advantage of you.” 

           “How can she possibly take advantage of me if we’re not living together anymore?! For God's sake, that’s like saying that the neighbor’s taking advantage of you in the winter because they used the sidewalk in front of the house that you salted and they didn’t,” Greg snapped, feeling his chest tighten and his vision start to blur from his anger. He refused to believe that Caroline still had the amount of control that Mycroft claimed she had over him. “How the hell am I still holding on to her if this is the first time in two years that I’ve seen her in person? I’m living with you. I’m sleeping with you. For fuck’s sake, your security babysit me like I’m your child. I’m not a child, Mycroft! You don’t get to talk to me like one.” 

           “You don’t have to live with someone for them to take advantage of you. Sherlock should be a very good example of that, you’ve seen that he takes advantage of plenty of people without actually being around them. I don’t treat you like a child either. My security team is there for good reasons, because it is not safe for you to be with me, as there are very powerful and very dangerous people that would love to use you to get to me. I will not sit by while you act like a child though, and blame me for things that happened to you and are still happening to you even if you refuse to see them. She took a much larger toll on you that I thought, which breaks my heart.” 

           “I’ll cut off Caroline from being able to see a doctor the minute you cut Sherlock off from hurting you.” Greg snapped, feeling a bit out of control and more than anything, like he was on a desperate defense to protect himself. He had been in plenty of fights before with Caroline where she would pick apart everything he had ever done wrong, from major slip ups to the tiniest flaws, and putting them all out there as if they were equal. Even now, knowing that she used to hurt him, it was still instinct to retaliate back before the other could get their claws in too deep. “What the hell does that mean, it’s not safe for me to be with you? You call me selfish, but God forbid I’m still friends with someone you didn’t personally screen and make sure they were to your liking? You’re always acting like a martyr, Mycroft. Quit it. I’m not dealing with this tonight.” Greg said as he reached over and slammed his laptop shut, immediately turning to his once abandoned drink and chugging it before it before pouring himself another heavy handed drink and shooting that one too. Considering going for a third but not wanting to give himself alcohol poisoning, Greg simply moved to sulk on the sofa, turning on the telly just to have some background noise to drown out the rage that was still clouding his head. He simply couldn’t calm down, no matter how hard he tried. His sulk had only made him more angry, everything on the T.V. screen annoying him no matter what, and the silence that followed after turning it off was deafening. Slightly stumbling out of the townhouse and onto the street to go for a run, the same security team Greg had just been cursing was now doing their best to keep the D.I from accidentally killing himself by trying to hold him back, which only fell into a few wildly thrown punches that did nothing. Yelling at them to let him go, it didn’t take long for Greg to find himself forcefully restrained against the brick wall, a hand hard across his mouth to keep him from screaming and drawing attention from the otherwise quiet neighborhood. 

           “You’re drunk, Greg. You’re going inside and you’re going to bed. I’m not going to call Mr. Holmes about you getting hit by a car tonight, and I’m not going to call your own team to arrest you for public intoxication either, so come home.” Nathan warned, his voice both warning Greg and not to fight him, but still warm enough to show that he actually did care about him and he wasn’t just doing his job. Finally admitting defeat, Greg allowed himself to be brought back in and saw himself to bed, though when his alarm when off in the morning, he gave in and called in sick, not wanting to face the world with the hangover that was still throbbing in the back of his skull. 

*****

           Mycroft spent all night dealing with the findings for the network, and was finally given the clearance to start heading home. Part of him was relieved to know that it was over, but he knew that the spider was still out there, and that he had just moved on temporarily. His team would still be searching, but his presence in this country so close to where the man had been was no longer necessary. Another small part of him was still angry and hurt from the night before, and knew that when he was home in front of the other, it could really only go one of two ways. They would keep fighting one another, a dueling shouting match with nothing coming from it, or apologise and make up, but neither would improve the situation. Once his things had been gathered, Mycroft headed out and knew his flight would land in four hours, and before noon, he would be back in his home once more, and he would have to plan how to approach the other on this subject before he came home from work in the evening. 

           It felt right to be home, instead of that horrid hotel that he had been living out of for nearly three weeks now. He was still hesitating outside the door though, knowing that Gregory was at home and not at work. His security team had informed him that the man was still there, but didn’t say anything more and welcomed him home. Taking a deep breath, Mycroft walked through the front door, toeing off his shoes and setting his things in their place as always, dropping his brief case off in his office before heading towards the kitchen. Gregory was at the stove, and he knew the other had heard him, but still had him back to him. Still angry then, that was understandable as he was as well. 

           “I thought you were going to be away for another week,” 

           “My team made some advancements last night, and unfortunately we lost our source. There was no need for me to stay in that country when the man we are looking for no longer was.” That was about all he could say, and honestly he didn’t really want to talk much about what had happened and how Moriarty was still on the loose. Mycroft watched as Gregory slid a sandwich off to the side, his heart aching just a little to know that even through his anger, the other was still thinking of him. He didn’t want to risk it though, and instead just waited for the other to come to him. 

           “How much longer until you’re after him again then?” 

           “We will keep after him until the threat has been neutralised.” Mycroft said softly, watching the other take a look towards the sandwich before going back to what he was doing. He could read the other’s body language, he could see that the man was purposefully busying himself so he didn’t have to face him. “I will keep going until I know that you, and everyone else that I care for are safe.” His voice was a bit softer, barely audible as he frowned, looking down at his hands where they were clasped in front of him. Seeing the photos from the man’s office, those notes and the pictures he had of Sherlock and Anthea, it frightened him to his core, which was nothing something that happened to him. It was hard to scare him, even when there were threats to those he cared for, because they were immortal. This man, something about the way he worked, told him that he better be frightened because he would stop at nothing until he had Mycroft and would go the distance to do serious harm to those he loved. 

          “Just say that you don’t know,” Gregory sighed, turning off the stove and finally turning around, keeping his gaze down. “I am safe, I’m probably about as safe as the Queen with your security. We both know that.” Mycroft wanted to shout, to yell and to pound into the other’s apparently thick skull that he in fact, was not safe at all, but he knew that wouldn’t do either of them any good. It only made matters worse when he saw that Gregory wouldn’t even look at him after he had turned around, instead keeping his eyes on the ground as he nibbled his sandwich. Clenching his jaw, Mycroft moved to take a seat on one of the bar stools, letting out a breath he had been holding as he decided that not telling the other was selfish and in the long run, wouldn’t keep him safe. Gregory was determined and under the very naive impression that he was safe, especially with the security team, but he couldn’t know the reaches this man had, the web that he weaved, and how further from the truth that proclamation of safety was. 

          “I wish that were so dear. No one more than me wants for your safety. I haven’t been completely honest with you. I thought withholding the information would keep you safe, but the more I think on it, the more you continue under the misguided notion that you are safe. I fear it only puts you more in harm's way. The man we are after, his name is Moriarty. He is a very dangerous man, with even more connections than myself, and will stop at nothing to get what he wants. Unfortunately, what he wants, it would seem, would be access to myself, and Sherlock. He will go to extreme lengths to get there as well, and the information that they found last night only makes me worry for your safety even more. I knew he had information on my brother and I, but he had files on Anthea and Ryan as well, even on my parents. I’m not sure if this has anything to do with the fact that we are all immortal, but if he knows my family and friends, it is only a matter of time before he finds you as well. The others, as much as I cringe to say these things, are harder to get to and to take advantage of. You on the other hand, are not. If this man is willing to kill and do all manner of unspeakable horrors to others, and now has information on them, it wouldn’t be a leap to say he is willing to do those things to you. They, for the most part, can stand up to whatever he has in store, though I fear for them as well. You…” A lump formed in his throat as he thought about the nightmare that he tried to keep from his mind, tears pricking his eyes and his throat closing up on him as he gasped for air. 

           “That’s why you said it’s not safe for me to be with you…” Gregory murmured, his voice quiet as he looked to him, a little shocked. All Mycroft could do was nod when the other spoke, watching as the man set aside his sandwich. He had never wanted to tell Gregory of this, to keep this all hidden until the threat was gone, but it had come up too often and Gregory was always resisting the protection that he tried to put in place. “So what do we do? Do I stay here, or… is this it? I don’t know where to go from here, My. I don’t know what you want me to do now…” When the other started talking about what to do next, if this was the end, Mycroft’s heart started pounding in his ears as he looked up to the other, his eyes wide before standing and racing to be by Gregory’s side, his hands grasping the man’s shoulder. 

           “No, love, this is not it. I just needed you to know because you were under the false impression that you were safe. Granted, my team takes every precaution to make sure that you are as safe as can be, and there is a reason we try to be hush about our relationship, but with me or not, this man will always be a threat. I just couldn’t let you go on thinking I was protecting you for no reason, or for some silly anxiety I had with you being fragile. It’s not that at all.” Mycroft was silent and tried to catch the other’s gaze, his heart pounding in his chest. “It’s also the reason that I get so irrationally angry about Caroline. I already see the pain and hurt that this causes you, and I wish I could make that go away, and whether you notice it or not, we could stop it. What I do not want to admit, though, is that pushing the divorce is a bad idea, only for the fact that on paper, it looks like you are still connected to her, and have little to no connection with me.” Gregory was quiet for a long time, just resting his head on Mycroft’s chest, the two of them standing in silence in their kitchen. 

           “I got drunk last night and tried to fight your security team. I lost. Hard. I’m still a bit hungover and I missed you more than I ever thought I could miss anyone. I don’t want to talk about Caroline, or Moriarty, or anything.  I just want to sit with you and get over this headache and not to do anything today. Think we could do that?” Mycroft wrapped his arms tightly around the other, pressing a kiss to the top of the man’s head. 

           “Anything love. I’ve missed you as well, more than should be allowed,” His voice was soft as he tried to soothe the other, his heart starting to calm but the ache still there between them. “Maybe finishing these sandwiches would be good for your headache, and then we go to the bedroom where it’s dark and quiet and just lay in bed together. I think you need some more rest if you want to feel better. Is that alright?” Pulling back, he gave the other a soft smile before leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. 

           “You should eat too,” Giving the other a short nod, Mycroft took the other sandwich and with a soft thanks he started to eat. 

           “I’m so sorry about everything that I said. I love you dearly, and sometimes I don’t think things through. Love makes you do crazy things sometimes.” Gregory just gave him and understanding smile and they both ate in silence, quickly finishing their sandwiches and cleaning up. Holding out his hand, Mycroft led the other back to their bedroom, changing out of his suit and getting into something more comfortable to relax in. Slipping into bed behind the other, he pressed up against the other man’s back, holding him close as he slipped an arm around his chest. The two of them drifted off, and he needed that as he hadn’t slept well while he was away, but everytime Gregory would stir, his grip around him would tighten ever so slightly, just to reassure him that he was there. Gregory finally spoke after a few hours, his voice soft and pained. 

           “Caroline and I would fight. A lot. Never physical, but there was plenty of yelling. She would always tell me what I was doing wrong, wanting to know who I was with, and accusing me of hiding things from her if I didn’t tell her, or that I didn’t trust her if I asked questions. She would say that I didn’t love her if I didn’t drop everything and listen to her complain about having a bad day, and tell me to shut up or walk away when I would talk about mine. I wanted to be happy, so I tried to make it work, though you know how well that turned out. I do still care about her as a person, because I know who she really is, and I know it was hard on her when I worked fifty or more hours a week. But I don’t love her anymore. I want to stay like this, with you. I don’t care if I have to hide away for the rest of my life and pretend that I’m not madly in love with you in public. I won’t lose you to a madman.” Frowning, Mycroft’s heart ached as he listened, hurt that his lover had been treated so horribly. 

            “I’m so very sorry my dear. You deserve so much more, and to be treated so much better. I don’t ever question your loyalty, nor do I think you would ever go behind my back. I will always be here to listen to you, especially on those rough days when you need it most. I’m sorry I snapped, I just hate that you have been through something like that, and my heart aches for you. My blood boils when I think about her, and what she has done to you, and how she still has her grip in you.” Mycroft paused, kissing the back of the man’s neck before pressing his forehead to Gregory’s head. “I love you so much, and I will never let anything happen to you. I’m sorry if it seems like I am overbearing at times, but I won’t lose you to a madman either.” Mycroft pulled back as the other turned around in his arms, almost letting out a squeak of surprise when he was pulled in close and kissed, Gregory’s voice soft as he looked to him. 

           “Make me forget. I don’t want to think about it anymore. Make it go away, please.” Mycroft’s heart fluttered as he gave the other a soft smile and leaned in to press another kiss to the man’s lips, taking it slow and deepening it after a few minutes, his hands holding onto the other just a tad tighter as he traced his tongue over the other’s bottom lip. There was a bit of a rush when his lover shivered and his lips parted, Gregory melting into his touch. Even after so many years, so many times together, affecting the other like he was, it was a thrill. “I love you. I don’t want to think of anything but you,” his lover whispered, his back arching from the mattress as Mycroft moved to mouth at his chest. “Take me, I need you. Please,” Running his tongue along the man’s sternum and nipping at the skin, Mycroft smiled as he bucked up into his touch. Making his way south, he looked up to the other and slid off the man’s pants, mouthing slowly around his erection and settling between his legs, wrapping them over his shoulders as he nuzzled the man’s groin. Starting soft, Mycroft lapped at Gregory’s balls, slowly taking each one into his mouth and twisting his tongue over the skin before moving to the other, his nose brushing against the man’s prick. After a few moments, he shifted his focus to the aching member, licking stripes up the firm flesh until the other was desperate, then he would turn back to his balls once more. Reaching up, Mycroft brought his fingers to the other’s lips, waiting for him to suck them into his delicious mouth and coat them, so that he could begin to press them into the other and give him more of what he really wanted. 

          “Mm, yes my love,” Mycroft purred, his heart fluttering as the other sucked, a groan rumbling through his chest as he brought his hand back down and sunk his digits into the other, working him open. He continued to use his mouth on him, curling his fingers in unison and dancing lightly over that sweet spot, watching and calculating how to make things better and more sensual based on the other’s reactions. Watching Gregory fall apart was so beautiful, a true sight to behold as he lost himself to pleasure. 

           “My, please, love, I need you.” Greg finally begged, lifting his head just enough to look down at him. “I love you, please.” 

           “How pretty a sound it is to hear you beg my dear, but… I don’t think my ears have heard enough just yet.” Mycroft chuckled softly, pulling away from the man’s groin, but continuing his gentle massage on the other’s sweet spot as he licked his lips. Finally pressing in a third finger, he stretch the man as well as he liked, not in any rush. Dipping back down, Mycroft took just the head of the man’s cock between his lips, swirling his tongue and moaning as he tasted the salty drops. 

           “Mycroft you bastard,” Gregory cursed softly, hands grasping the sheets tight. “God, please, take me. Please, I want you so much. I need you.” Groaning, Mycroft pulled off of the other and took his fingers out slowly, crawling up the bed and pressing a few lazy kisses to the man’s lips. 

           “Delicious my dear. I could listen to you beg, plead, whimper and moan, and never grow tired of the sounds,” He purred, nipping at the man’s ear as his hand blindly reached for the nightstand for lube. Straddling Gregory’s waist, Mycroft took his time rubbing the liquid over his cock, stroking himself and letting out small gasps as he looked down to the other through heavy lids, his lips parted slightly. “Oh Gregory, my heart, my life, and my light. Tell me once more, how much you want me, and what exactly you want me to do.” His voice was thick and heavy as he slowly stroked himself, rocking his hips just enough to brush against the other, but not enough to give him any relief. 

           “I need you, my love. I need you in me, that thick cock of yours pressed into me, and that mouth against my skin. I want your arms pulling and pushing me into just the right position for your pleasure. I want to be yours in every way and to never forget it.” Heat ran to his cheeks and his breathing grew heavy as Mycroft listened to the other, letting out small groans as he shifted his hips, seeing that same desperation in those gorgeous brown eyes. Swallowing hard, he moved to sit between Gregory’s legs, leaning in close to pepper the man with kisses, trialing them along his cheeks and temples, moving down to his jaw line and back to his lips. Positioning himself at the other’s entrance, he teased him with small little prods and pushes, but never enough to enter the other. 

           “You will always be mine, no matter what, no matter how long this takes us, and for as long as I shall live. I will never want another, only you.” Biting down a little rougher on Gregory’s shoulder, Mycroft pressed in, just getting the head past the first ring of muscles before stopping, gasping at the heat. 

           “More, please, I want you. Only and ever you, always,” Gregory gasped, a hand sliding through his hair to cradle him closer. “I love you, I love you, Mycroft, but God, please move… please…” After a few moments he moved, pressing in further till he was fully seated inside of the other. Licking at the abused skin on Gregory’s shoulder, he let his hot breath trail over Gregory’s skin as he nuzzled the man’s neck, using all of his will power not to snap his hips as he pulled back slowly and pushed in, making sure to brush his prostate on the way. His lover arched under him, a moan pulled from his chest as he cried out. Mycroft repeated the slow thrust, again, and again, till the other was clawing at his back and desperate for some sort of release. “Please, Mycroft, right there. Please. You know what I want, what I need. I want to feel you finish inside me, please,” Pressing his forehead against Gregory’s, Mycroft looked to the other through his lashes, his breath hot and heavy as he nodded. Showering him with a few more kisses, he sped up, just enough to make Gregory lose control and to feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge, but not too fast for it to be anything more than just sweet and caring love. 

           “Gregory, my heart, my love, my life,” His voice was shaking as he started to lose control, his hips thrusting erratically as he held on tight to his lover, burying his face in the man’s neck and sucking little marks to the other’s collarbones. “I love you, Gregory, my dearest, I love you.” Mycroft whispered, feeling himself just at the edge as he reached down between them and wrapped his hand around the man’s prick. It didn’t take long for Gregory to come, Mycroft shouting as his lover clenched around him, that heat spilling over his hand. “Gods, Gregory,” He moaned, his hips still thrusting as he chased his own. After a moment, his hips stilled and his orgasm washed over him, a low moan ripping through his chest. It took a second before he gently pulled out and collapsed, partially laying on top of the other, just panting and trying to calm his breathing. “Cor meum,” Curling up next to the other, Mycroft wrapped an arm possessively around Gregory’s waist, holding him tight and pressing small kisses into his shoulder. 

           “I love you, my darling,” Gregory murmured, lifting his hand up to his lips and kissing his knuckles. “Thank you. For being here, for everything you’ve given me. I owe you everything I have. I love you.” 

           “No, thank you my darling dearest. You have put up with the secrets and the threats we have encountered, and my crazy moods and states that I get into. I will never understand how I ended up with someone as kind, caring, patient and loving as you. You make me human, make me feel like my life actually has a purpose even though it will never end, you make that okay, because I know that I will always get to wake up to you.” Mycroft whispered, a few tears running down his cheek as he kissed the man, pouring every ounce of love and understanding, and all the words he couldn’t say into it. “I love you my heart.” 

           “My, dear, there’s nothing to cry for, you’re so hard on yourself. Don’t be, you’re human, you do have a purposed, don’t speak like that about yourself,” Gregory murmured, gingerly shifting around before pulling Mycroft’s head down on his shoulders, brushing the tears away from his cheek. “One last nap, then we should at least get up and do something. My sleeping pattern is shot and you’ve been traveling for far too long to just stay tucked away again.” Gregory said with a soft laugh. “Maybe dinner and a walk along the Thames?” 

          “That sounds lovely my heart,” Mycroft yawned, tucking himself down under the blankets, his eyes starting to feel heavy. It felt nice, after nearly a month of being away, to finally be back at home with his partner where he belonged. 


	27. XXVI

           Everything seemed to sail smoothly after that, month's going by, cases coming and going for the both of them, but no mention of the network, no threats from outside sources and everything was rather calm. Walking into the house, Mycroft toed off his shoes and hung up his jacket, bringing in a few bags from the market that he had picked up on his way home. Anthea and Ryan had called him a few nights ago and asked if they would be home for dinner, that there was something they wanted to talk to them about. Of course, he had tried to get it out of her for the past few days what it was, but she wouldn’t budge. 

           “I’ve brought everything you needed love,” He called, walking into the kitchen and setting down the bags, taking each ingredient out and setting it on the counter. “Do you need any help with the prep work? If not, I still need to take a shower and change before they come over, and then I can help you set the table,” Moving to the man’s side, Mycroft lay a gentle kiss on Gregory’s cheek, smiling as he wrapped his arms around his waist. 

          “If you want to chop garlic for me, since you’ll be getting in the shower right after, that would be brilliant. How was your day?” 

          “Of course chef,” Mycroft chuckled, giving the other another small peck before turning to grab the cutting board and knife, setting up at the other end of the island. “Slow, uneventful, which I guess is good. Though I have to admit, it didn’t go by as quickly because I was rather anxious for dinner tonight. I have been trying to work Anthea over and figure out her secret, but she won’t budge. Unfortunately she knows me too well, and I can’t get a reading off of her.” Mycroft frowned, working on the garlic and handing it off before asking one last time if there was something else he could help with. 

          “Same with Ryan, but I can tell he’s excited about whatever it is. I think he’s under orders not to talk to you though, or he’ll ruin the surprise.” Gregory laughed, setting down his knife and drying his hands before wrapping his arms around Mycroft’s waist and giving him a proper kiss. “Go on then, go get changed and come back down, they’ll be here soon and you can pick out the wine for the night.” Rolling his eyes and giving the other a playful smile, Mycroft headed up the stairs and to their ensuite, quickly taking a shower and changing into something a tad more casual, but still his typical three piece suit. When he looked to the clock, it read a quarter to seven and he knew that they only had around twenty minutes before the others would arrive. Heading back down stairs, he sniffed the air, smiling as the wonderful scents from dinner filled his lungs. 

           “Smells absolutely delicious my love,” Passing behind the other, his hand tracing along the small of Gregory’s back, Mycroft grabbed plates and glasses from the cupboards, setting the table and grabbing silverware as well as napkins. After finishing the table, he moved to the wine rack to choose something nice for the evening. “98’ Don Perignon or 87’ Far Niente Cabernet Sauvignon?” He called to Gregory, not sure which bottle he preferred. 

           “Cab? I don’t know. Chicken with a garlic cream sauce, your choice.” Gregory admitted with a laugh, Mycroft smiling as he listened and pulled the Sauvignon off the shelf. 

           “My dear, I thought you were getting rather good at these pairings, now you are telling me you don’t know which to choose?” Mycroft teased, moving back to the counter and grabbing the corkscrew to take the top out, pouring a glass for each of them just as the doorbell chimed. 

          “I only claim that I know reds work with some foods better than whites and such, but years mean nothing to me, you know that.” Gregory shot back, sipping at the wine with a content hum. 

          “Well, looks like our guests have arrived.” Anthea and Ryan never had news like this, well they hadn’t in a long time, not since Ryan had gained all his memories, or they had announced their wedding the first time around, so this was rather exciting and nerve wracking as well. Setting down the bottle, Mycroft walked to the door, smiling as he pulled it open and saw the two of them, moving in to greet them both with a kiss on the cheek to Anthea and a handshake to Ryan as they stepped in. “Come in my dears, please. Dinner's almost ready, and I’ve already poured some delicious wine.” 

           “Mycroft’s going mad wanting to know what it is that you have to tell us. I don’t know if he’s more excited to find out, or just so that you won’t have something to hold over him anymore.” Gregory laughed, the both of them smiling and looking to him. 

          “I think I will just have a water,” Anthea said after taking off her coat, and Mycroft frowned, ready to press the subject further when Gregory offered to make tea for her instead. 

          “I am sorry that I do not like it when there is something unknown to me, that is a rare happening as I am usually able to deduce it.” Mycroft quipped, walking over to the kitchen table and pulling out the chairs, watching as his friends took a seat. 

          “Well now you know what it’s like for the rest of us who aren’t all knowing as you are.” 

          “Whatever you have made Gregory, it smells absolutely delicious, and I’m starving.” Anthea smiled, looking at the food as the other brought it to the table, setting it down on the hot pads and taking off the mits before finding his own seat. 

           “I’ll be more than happy to pack up any extras for you to take home if you would like.” Gregory offered, serving everyone’s plates as Mycroft busied himself with pouring the tea for Anthea. “Then again, anything with sauteed garlic always smells amazing.” If anyone were to give away the news before they had actually said anything, it would be Ryan, and Anthea had made sure the man was out of his sight for the past few days. Now that he was sitting at the table next to him, Mycroft couldn’t help but probe, just asking simple questions, but trying his hardest to read the other and see how he interacted with Anthea for clues. 

           “Mycroft, stop trying to read the answer off of Ryan,” Anthea scolded, looking over to him and chuckling when she saw his wide eyes. “Gregory, you have outdone yourself yet again.” 

          “Silly man,” Gregory teased, taking a seat next to him and gently nuding his foot against Mycroft’s. “Sometimes simple is the best,” The man grinned, his cheeks tinging just a tad as Mycroft gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. “So, to save Mycroft from going mad trying to control himself, what is your little bit of news you’d like to tell us?” Looking up to the two of them, he saw the looked that Anthea gave to Ryan as she set her fork down, lifting the napkin up and wiping her mouth as she paused. 

           “Well,” She started, licking her lips as Ryan just gave her a small nod. “There’s a bit of news, but what we really wanted to do was to ask the both of you a question, a favour really, but it’s more of a lifelong commitment. There is something we would like both of you to do for us, and we hope that we aren’t imposing too much when we assume that you will say yes,” 

            “Just spit it out dear, are you trying to give us a heart attack?” Mycroft snipped, setting his fork down and placing his hand on Gregory’s knee, his heart stilling as he looked to the two of them, now even more anxious to hear the news than before. 

           “No, please, keep drawing this out, this is funny. Actually, wait a moment,” Mycroft glared over to Gregory as the man pulled out his phone to record him, and moved to try and take it from him. 

            “Gregory, you know how I feel about cameras, you are not tapping this moment. Delete that and turn off your mobile,” After a few moments of trying to stop the other, Gregory finally conceded and put his phone down, looking back towards Anthea as she and Ryan laughed at the other couple. “Sorry, just no room for videos or photos, you know that,” He whispered over to his partner, giving him a good natured smack on the knee before looking up again. “Now, my dear, please continue…” 

            “And yes, of course, whatever it is that you ask of us, I know that we will say yes. You’re both of our closest friends, and we will always be there as you have been for us countless times.” Anthea was smiling and waited a moment longer, taking a deep breath before speaking. 

             “Will you two do us the honour of being godparents?” She asked, her voice high as she looked to the both of them. 

            “The answer is yes, of course, a thousand times yes. However, I’m just glad to see that you’re the one who broke him this time, not me. How far along are you then?” Greg said with a wide grin after a beat, glancing between Anthea and Mycroft who was currently silently staring at the woman. 

            “Actually, I am nearly four months. We should know the gender of the baby in a couple of weeks, and were hoping that you would come to our place afterwards for a small get together?” Mycroft was stunned, shocked and completely speechless. On one hand, he was ecstatic, absolutely thrilled for his friends to have a child, and that they would ask him to be the godparents, or that they were so far along. On the other hand though, he was  numb. A part of him felt a tad lost and empty, knowing that it was something he had wanted for a long time, with Gregory, and something they had discussed before but always halted because of the sad circumstances they were currently in. Swallowing thickly, Mycroft tried to gather his thoughts, to listen to the words and what everyone was saying, but everything felt foggy. 

             “That’s fantastic!” Gregory beamed, moving from where he sat next to him, to give Anthea a hug and congratulate Ryan as well. “God, yes, of course we’ll be there. You’ll have to tell us what it is of course.” 

            “Well of course we will tell you, how else could we expect lavish gifts if we kept it a secret,” Anthea joked, watching as Gregory took his seat next to Mycroft again. 

            “My, you alright? We’ll get to be godparents. That’ll be amazing.” Blinking back into their conversation and looking over to Gregory, Mycroft nodded and looked towards the others, giving them a soft smile before squeezing Gregory’s hands tight in his own. 

            “Yes, it’s wonderful darling, I am so happy for the both of you,” His voice was soft as he looked between the two of them, and he could see the love and life that was in their eyes, especially now with Ryan’s hands placed over her stomach. 

            “We’re both happy for the two of you, and of course we’ll be happy to lavish all of you with gifts.” Looking back to the other with a faint smile, Mycroft kept quiet, smiling when cued and adding a few small things here and there, but for the most part, he sat back and observed. They finished their meal, and Gregory had asked for them to stay, to sit with them a little longer in the lounge, but Anthea declined, stating that she was rather tired. Seeing them both out, Mycroft closed the door after saying their goodbyes and leaned against it, staring off into space. He had been rather numb and distant all night, but now with the two of them gone, he could really take a moment to process everything. He was happy for them, and knew that they would both be great parents, but if there was anything that he could have in his life beyond the obvious and have Gregory with him, it would be that they could have a family together. He had always been great with children, not that it was a fact he particularly shared with all, but he always loved helping his parents with Sherlock when he was younger, and Gregory had always been brilliant with the little ones as well. His heart melted seeing the man with a child and he knew that Anthea and Ryan would have them in the child’s life as well, so he would get to see that, but it was still hard. They weren’t actually sure when they could have their own, or how, but it was something they desperately wanted. When Gregory returned from the kitchen and moved in close, Mycroft brought his gaze up, looking into those chocolate eyes after a few more moments of silence. “Hey, love. Want to talk?” He just nodded, making his way to the living room and taking a seat on the sofa. “Say what you want love. I have a few things myself, but I want to hear what’s on your mind first.” 

           “I’m happy for them, I am…” He started, but his voice cracked, his throat swelling up on him as he finally voiced his thoughts. Pausing for a moment, Mycroft swallowed hard and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before continuing. “They will be great parents.” That wasn’t what Gregory wanted to hear, and he knew it, but Mycroft wasn’t sure he could bring himself to voice the real reason he had been so distant. His partner surely knew what was going through his mind, as it hadn’t been a topic they had shied away from in the past, instead they had openly talked about it multiple times. Finally bringing himself to open his eyes, Mycroft looked over to the other, reaching out and taking the man’s hand in his own, giving him a rather shaky smile. 

            “And so will you when it’s our turn, love. We’ll have our own family even if it takes some time. But… we’ll have to use IVF no matter what, right?” Gregory asked softly, ducking his head down to hold Mycroft’s gaze and smile. “So why don’t we use that to our advantage? We can, you know, preserve yours now. We both want me to be able to remember everything tomorrow, but if that doesn’t happen, then we don’t have to worry about time passing for you. As time passes, science only gets better and we’ll only have a better chance of having our own family when that comes, and it will, My. I promise you it will.” Gregory was right, but he was impatient. Well, in comparison to most, he was the most patient man in the world, having waited centuries for the man he loved, and centuries to be able to start a family, but he didn’t want to have to wait any longer. Mycroft wanted Gregory to stay with him now, he wanted a family, he wanted this horrible, vicious cycle to be over and for him to be able to have a real life with his partner, just like Anthea and Ryan were able to do. Twelve lives together, and still he was trying to get this to work. Most couples didn’t have to jump through this cycle of hoops for half the amount of time he had spent, and that only made him want it more, knowing that he had worked longer and harder than most immortal couples he knew. 

           “It’s easy for you to be able to say it will come, and that we will have it. I have been wanting this with you since we lived together the first time in Rome. Granted, you have wanted it every time as well, but you are…” He paused, not wanting to say lucky, because he knew lucky would mean that Gregory could remember, but he was rather lucky to not have to remember those years of ache and want. “You haven’t had to endure centuries of waiting for it.” 

           “Every time’s the first time for me, I know, and I’m sorry that I can’t just force it to happen faster.” Gregory murmured, bringing him closer and cradling his head in his hands. “I know it’s easier for me to believe that, so let me be the one to remind you then. Time and time again, however many times it takes. Anthea and Ryan, even your parents say that this is going to be the last time around for me. There has to be a reason I remember so much now, and how strong the memories I’ve had have been. Just a little longer, love. It’ll come, I know it will.” 

           “I want that to be true more than anything, but that doesn’t stop the doubts or fears that it won’t be, that I will have to do this yet again, that it will be centuries before we can finally be together permanently and have a family together. Even then, I am far too old to father children, without risks that is, and because you were not born immortal, it isn’t guarantee the child would be, even with an immortal surrogate.” Mycroft leaned against Gregory’s chest, closing his eyes as he let the other hold him, kissing his forehead and rubbing his hands over his shoulders. “I want to be happy for Anthea and Ryan, and I  _ am  _ happy for them, but it will be hard seeing you with a child that isn’t ours, knowing we can’t have that.” 

           “That’s.... That’s why we go to the IVF clinic. They can sort it all out, sweetheart. We’ll find a way. Look at the people who can have babies now. There’s women out there in their seventies having their first baby because they found someone who could give them one. All I’m asking, all I’m hoping for, is that we just do the first steps right now for you. Freeze some… um, sperm,” Gregory awkwardly cleared his throat, “But we can start, and then once I’ve gotten my memories back and I can be with you all the time, then we start with our family, okay?” The idea of walking into a clinic and handing over a small container of his sperm with the immortal DNA, to keep until they were ready, out of sind and with little security, sounded like a horrifying nightmare to Mycroft. 

           “If we were to do that, we would have to keep it here, in the home. If anyone ever found out that my DNA contained the genetic makeup for immortality, it would be traced back to me and my family, and the idea is not appealing. I’m not sure which risk is bigger though, the chance of a mortal child with my sperm, or with yours.” His voice was quiet as he pulled back, looking to the other, his nerves having settled a bit, but still feeling a tad raw as he thought about the situation they were in. 

           “I never thought about that,” Gregory admitted softly, brushing his hand over Mycroft’s cheek. “We’ll find something, I’m sure. We can make it work. You’re the king of making the impossible happen. It’ll be okay. I love you, we’ll make it. I will always love you.” Mycroft hummed into the other’s kiss, giving Gregory a weak smile when they pulled apart. The rest of the night was spent in relative silence, sitting on the sofa together, sipping tea and watching a film as Gregory held him close. He wasn’t completely sure what would happen, and he still wasn’t feeling particularly positive, but he knew that no matter what, his partner would be there, and that was all that mattered in the end.

*****

           Greg had been distracted all day, knowing that they were going to find out if his little godchild was going to be a boy or a girl. Donovan had teased him all day long, every time she came into his office she would find him staring off into the distance. She found it sweet though, but that certainly didn’t mean that she was about to let him off easy. Relieved when he was finally able to head home and get away from his team’s good natured prodding, Greg sighed contently as he opened the door, kicking his shoes off in the hall. He was quickly distracted though by the sound of voices and banging going on in Mycroft’s office. 

           “I’m in here, dear,” 

           “Um, hi… what’re you doing?” He asked with a faint laugh, stepping through the door and raising a brow in confusion at the team working around something in the corner of the room. “What’s going on?” 

           “They are installing a special safe in my office, though they are taking their time doing the job,” Mycroft said, just loud enough that the crew could hear him. “We have a prior engagement to be to in an hour, so I do hope that you men will have this finished by then. I would hate to have a chat with your supervisor over the fact that you did not finish this project for me in a timely manner.” Greg shook his head in amusement at the overly blatant point that Mycroft was giving the men standing around, though at least they got the idea as they muttered among themselves and returned to what they were supposed to be doing. “So my dear, wash up. I told Anthea we would bring an appetizer to her house for tonight, and unless we should have to stop at Tesco on our way, we will have to start cooking now,” 

           “Did you have an idea about said appetizer to bring?” Greg asked with an amused smirk, taking Mycroft’s hand and walking into the kitchen, letting go just long enough to roll up his sleeves while looking around in the fridge to get an idea of what to make. 

           “I think something simple for the meal will be fine my dear, like bruschetta, or maybe a few mini quiches?” 

           “So what’s so special about the safe in your office? Are you going to be working from home now? Not that I’ll complain if that means you’ll stay around and not be sent half-way around the world away from me, but still.” 

           “No, unfortunately working from home is not a luxury I can afford. This safe, my dear, is refrigerated. I thought, maybe after we come home tonight, and the safe is installed, we can celebrate putting it to use tomorrow…” Greg faltered as he dug around in the fridge, frowning as he listened to the fact about the safe being refrigerated. 

           “Why do you have a chilled safe?” He asked softly, not quite following as he looked back at the man, his heart racing slightly as he started putting the pieces together, remembering their conversation from a few weeks ago.

           “Well, actually, it’s a bit more advanced than just a regular refrigerated safe. It’s able to cryogenically freeze whatever substance is put inside. Very expensive, with the highest security possible.” Grabbing some mozzarella and butter to make bruschetta, Greg looked back at his partner in surprise when he spoke again, his cheeks warming at the idea, the last bit of the puzzle coming to him. 

           “I… I love you, you know that? You’re absolutely insane sometimes, but I love you so damn much.” 

            “I love you as well my dear.” Greg moved closer, wrapping his arms around the man’s waist, pulling him into a deep kiss. They really were going to do this, really and honestly take the steps necessary to have a family. 

           “You’re amazing,” He breathed, very much wanting to skip to the end of the night now, even though he knew it was far more than just a quick handjob into a cup and tossing it into the freezer. “Come on, we need to do this and go to Anthea and Ryan’s. We can celebrate later.” Greg laughed, giving one last lingering kiss to Mycroft’s lips before moving quick to land another on his nose and stepping away to get some tomatoes to make their dish. 

           “Yes dear, I do plan on celebrating tonight,” Mycroft’s face scrunched as always when he kissed his nose. “Tomorrow I have scheduled an appointment for us at the clinic, where the real preservation will take place, and they will have it transferred here for safekeeping.” He was buzzing with excitement now, both for tomorrow, as well as the fact that they would find out if Anthea’s baby was a boy or a girl. 

           “Thank you for doing all of this. I know it’s still a bit hard right now, but… now we have a plan. An actual plan. I know how much you want this and it’s not just words to make me happy.” Finishing up, he set the dish on the counter and turned towards Mycroft, smiling as the man moved in and pulled him into a kiss. Greg moaned softly as he was pressed up against the counter, his eyes drifting shut as he held tight to the man’s shoulders. 

           “I want a child with you, Gregory, and if this is what I have to do to have that, consider it done.” Mycroft smiled, leaning in again, pressing another passionate kiss to his lips. 

           “We’ll have our own family, My. I promise, I love you, so very much.” He murmured, grinning back up at Mycroft as they clearly fought against their wants to have one another in the moment, the workers in the other room and their promise to Anthea be damned. “Gregory,” 

            “Later, love. Later we can ‘practice’.” Greg smirked, leaning back as he ran his hands down over Mycroft’s chest. “But now we’re to find out if we’ll have a goddaughter or godson.”

            “Right… right.” He chuckled as Mycroft pulled away, taking advantage of the moment alone to sort himself back out and will his body back in control. He very much wanted to have just a few moments to have Mycroft to himself, a thought coming to his mind with a telltale smirk as he watched the other walk off to his office. “I just need to check that everything is finished in the office before we leave. We cannot just have these men working here unsupervised.” 

            “You know… I think we can buy ourselves about five minutes before we absolutely have to go,” He purred, walking up behind Mycroft after he had seen the men out of his office and towards the door, making it rather obvious what he was thinking of as he ran his hands over the man’s hips and down to cup his now quickly growing bulge. “I’ve always wanted to suck you off in your office at work. This might be a close enough with your suit on.”

            “Gregory,” Mycroft’s voice was dark and deep as he worked his hands over him. It wasn’t long till the man turned around and leaned in to kiss him, bringing them back towards his desk and moving Greg to sit between his legs. 

            “My beautiful husband.” Greg murmured between kisses, smirking as he moved to undo his trousers, just enough to get to his prize. Stepping back slightly to drop down to his knees, Greg stroked Mycroft’s prick a few times before sucking him down as far as he could with a low hum. Normally he would see how long he could tease his lover until he was shaking and scrambling for more, but they were on a time crunch after all.  Only pausing long enough to get his gag reflex under control, Greg started bobbing his head and swirling his tongue around the head each time before diving back down to the base, his cheeks hollowing out as he worked the man’s body over with his mouth. 

            “Ah! Gods, Gregory!” Mycroft shouted, his breath hitching and his muscles twitching and reacting. One of those hands flew to his hair, carding through and tugging ever so slightly. “Love, I-I…” Greg smirked to himself as he felt the shock rush through Mycroft’s body, but that was the thrill of it all really. To have one another so quickly, almost a dare to not be late while still wanting to make sure that they both got their pleasure out of one another. Feeling Mycroft’s hand begin to tighten ever so slightly in his hair, Greg wrapped his own hand around his lover’s leg to hold him close as he let the man take over. It made him feel dirty in the best way possibly, moaning softly at the feeling of the man’s prick thrust into his mouth and sitting heavy on his tongue. “Gregory,” Mycroft panted, his thrusts growing a tad more erratic. “Fuck,” Greg loved the way that Mycroft fell apart, struggling to keep some semblance of control until the last moment when it was physically impossible to do anything else but give in. Working his tongue over the sensitive flesh to pull out every last pleasurable wave from his partner’s body, Greg smirked to himself as he felt Mycroft finish, his hips stilling and that delicious seed runing down his throat. After a few moments, he pulled off the other, wiping the corners of his mouth and smiling to the man above him. “My love,” Mycroft tugged at him, and it would never not be amusing to him that the most powerful man in Britain was such a cuddler after sex, but he wouldn’t change it for the world. 

             “Think that will hold you until we return tonight?” He asked with a soft laugh as he stood again, leaning on the desk to steady his legs before wrapping his arms tight around Mycroft's stomach and burying his face into the man’s neck. “I love you. I feel like I can never say it enough sometimes.” 

             “I love you as well my heart. I think it will hold me for a while, but I can’t make any promises,” Mycroft chuckled, reaching between them and putting himself back together before stepping away from his desk. “Well, even if there were a chance that I could work from home, now I won’t be able to because I would just get distracted thinking about the activities that happened here.” 

              “You’re only making me want to hide out in your office even more now, you know. Age be damned, I’ll find a way to tuck myself under your desk,” Greg grinned, though he wouldn’t dare put Anthea or his friends on the security team in that awkward of a position. Just because everyone knew in theory that they had an active sex life, certainly didn’t mean they needed to be aware of what they did. “Come on, my silly man. I don’t want to be running late to Anthea’s, least we receive a hungry, pregnant woman’s wrath.” 

            “Yes, let’s get on our way. We should arrive just on time, and hopefully they won’t be any wiser in our recent activities.” Greg headed towards the door and shot Mycroft a look when he half spanked him, snorting a laugh as they made their way outside and into the car. Anthea and Ryan’s house was still far nicer than anything Greg had ever owned in his lifetime, but was a bit more subdued that Mycroft’s home. It was a part of a line of row homes, though it certainly didn’t feel like your normal walk-up once you got inside, and it was decorated more like Mycroft’s with a collection of things the two of them had gathered through time. Smiling warmly to Ryan when he answered the door, Greg gave him a strong handshake along with a quick hug before letting himself in, heading towards the main room to greet Anthea with a kiss on her cheek. 

           “Hello my dear, I’ve come baring gifts of food for the two of you… three of you? Mainly you two,” He joked with an easy grin, offering out the plate of bruschetta for Anthea to take and not minding at all that he was already forgotten about as she eyed the food. Mycroft walked in, moving over to Anthea and leaning in to place a kiss on her cheek, his hand going to her stomach. 

           “And how are you my dear? How is our darling god child as well?” 

           “We’re quite good. Both healthy, both growing.” She said, taking Mycroft’s hand in her’s and shifting it just slightly to the side. “And both happy to see you. No doubt the wonderful food helps as well, Gregory. Thank you for bringing this over. Now, how have you both been? I had to duck out at lunch for my appointment and someone here wouldn’t allow for me to return after,” Mycroft’s eyes suddenly went wide and he gasped, Anthea smiling down to where Mycroft’s hand was on her stomach. 

            “Oh my goodness…” He paused, his eyes bright as he smiled to her. “Can they hear us yet?” Anthea nodded, and Mycroft kneeled in front of her, placing a hand on either side of her stomach. “Hello little one, your two godfather’s are here, and we’re so excited to meet you, little one,” Keeping his voice soft, Mycroft rubbed his hands softly over her stomach. Greg stood back with his arms crossed over his chest, a warm smile spreading over his lips as he watched Mycroft and Anthea together, his heart melting at the sight of his partner as he spoke to the child and felt it move. 

            “Sorry Ryan, I think you’ve got some competition for your family now,” He teased, the man shaking his head as he brought a few glasses of champagne for them and water for Anthea. 

            “It’s fine. It’s always been this way, actually. By the time we first met, Mycroft and Anthea were already friends. They might as well be family to one another. Besides, I get to feel our little one move around whenever I want to.” 

            “Well, shall we eat? I want to get this on the road so we can hear the news sooner,” Mycroft smiled, moving to help grab dishes for food and sitting around the table, Greg resting a hand on his partner’s knee. He was thankful that Mycroft had finally settled into the idea of being a godfather and could be happy for their friends, sitting back as they talked. They all sat around the table, chatting away and laughing, talking about the normal topics and making their way through the appetizer and the main meal as well. After an hour and once all the food was gone, they all sat around the table, sipping at their drinks and letting the conversation die a little. After a minute of silence, Greg couldn’t help himself but sit up again with an almost giddy grin, Ryan clearing his throat and looking to Anthea. 

            “Alright, we’ll tell you. We have our own little reveal for you, though. I know you’re on a diet, Mycroft, but I assumed that you wouldn’t mind having a bit of cake with us, especially since Ann’s been craving it all week.” Ryan smiled, patting his wife’s belly and giving her a quick kiss before stepping into the kitchen, returning with a small layered cake that was covered in white icing. “The two of you get to cut it, and the icing inside will tell you.” 

            “I’m sure Gregory won’t mind sharing a bit with me,” Greg shook his head in amusement as Mycroft still deferred to having a piece of cake but didn’t say anything about it, letting Mycroft take the lead with cutting it since he certainly didn’t want to make a mess. “Well, shall we do this together?” Nodding, the sliced the cake up, taking the cake knife and sliding it under the piece. 

            “Ready?” He asked softly, lifting the slice out and grinning at the bright blue icing sandwiched between the cake. “It’s a boy! A little lad, that’s fantastic!” Greg beamed, making sure the piece of cake got onto the plate before going to give Anthea another tight hug. “That’s brilliant, we’re so happy for you.” 

            “You do realise this means I will be spoiling him with tailored suits, making sure that he’s wearing the best shoes and always looks ready to go,” Mycroft chuckled, resting a hand on the back of Greg’s neck as he sat back down. “And I’m sure Gregory will teach him how to cook as well, then maybe he will start cooking for you later down the line,” Greg laughed as Mycroft talked about little suits, trying to imagine it but only coming up with ideas that made him laugh even more. 

            “Or you know, we can spoil him with toys and stuffies and footballs,” He said with a grin. The thought of cooking and baking with a little one did make his heart flutter with excitement. “No matter what, he’ll certainly be loved to no end. Though I feel like now’s the time to apologise to Ryan for undoubtedly having a battle with the two of us to be a father figure.” 

            “Oh nonsense Gregory. He won’t have to battle with us to be his dad, we are just going to be the fun godparents he wants to come spend time with.” Mycroft chuckled, raising a bite of cake to his mouth. Greg happily took it, taking a dab of icing off the cake and tapping it onto the man’s nose, gaining some laughter from everyone else. “We will be spoiling him rotten, which I’m sure you are fully aware of. Also, I have hired contractors to help you, when you are ready, to go over designs for the nursery. The first of many gifts for our precious godson.” 

           “Silly man, they’ll have plenty of time to sort out the nursery and everything else. Let’s simply celebrate having a family, yeah?” Greg said softly, squeezing Mycroft’s hand in his with a fond smile, knowing that one day this would be theres. “Have you all thought about names yet? Or is that still to come?” 

           “We haven’t got that far yet, but I’m sure you both will be the first to know when we do,” Anthea smiled, looking back over to Ryan. Baby names, nursery ideas, future gifts, they talked about it all, baby fever hitting them all a little hard. The hours ticked by, and soon it was rather late, the clocks chiming as it hit eleven.

           “Well as lovely as this has been, and as much as we would like to stay, I am afraid it is getting late, and we should be heading home. Gregory and I have a few things we need to do tomorrow earlier in the day, and my dearest needs his sleep.” Mycroft was right, he needed sleep, and he looked up to the others with a lazy smile. “Congratulations again, to both of you. We are so excited for you, and can’t wait to meet the little one.” 

           “Goodnight, Anthea. We all can’t wait to meet your new son.” Greg murmured as he lightly kissed her forehead, giving Ryan one last handshake goodbye before walking out to the car and relaxing against Mycroft’s side once they had started back towards their home. “That’ll be us one day too, and I can’t wait.” 

           “I cannot wait either my love. Now, let’s celebrate a small victory for ourselves tonight, and then tomorrow, we’ll take those first steps towards that future.” Greg hummed happily as the man kissed the top of his head, and they headed back home, his heart full. 

*****

           “Gregory, are you ready to go? We need to be at the clinic within the next fifteen minutes.” Mycroft called through the bedroom, Gregory still getting ready in the ensuite. Finally after a few more minutes, the man emerged and Mycroft couldn’t help but smile, still feeling rather warm and touched after last night. 

           “Sorry, sorry.” His partner apologised with a rather large yawn, stepping over to Mycroft and giving him a sleep lazy kiss. “You know me and mornings. So… they’ll do questions, take the sample, and then freeze it?” Mycroft chuckled as the other yawned, stretching his arms above his head. 

          “Yes dear, that is the idea,” It didn’t take much longer for Gregory to be fully ready, pulling his shoes on and making their way to their car. His nerves were on end, he was excited, happy, and a little anxious about the whole thing, but he knew that Gregory would be there with him, and that this was a big step for them. It was only a ten minute ride from the manor to the clinic, and there were a few forms that they had to fill out while in the waiting room. When his name was called, Mycroft looked over to Gregory, taking his hand and squeezing it as they stood to walk over. They were lead back to a patient room, a couple of chairs lining the wall along with a padded patient chair, that he would rather not sit on. The other side of the room was a small desk where the doctor sat. 

          “So, what is it that the two of you are looking to do today?” The doctor asked gently, glancing down at the file in front of her before closing it and sliding it to the side to clasp her hands together. 

          “Well, we are looking to… preserve sperm, mine specifically,” Mycroft really didn’t want to go into too much detail, and when he was a tad on edge like he was, it was better if he kept his sentences short and to the point. 

          “Alright then, we just have a few questions to go over with you, as well as answer any that you might have. Then we will leave you alone with the receptacle and when you are finished, we will make sure the sample is viable, let you know the results and then you can go home. Are you both ready?” Nodding, Mycroft looked to Gregory who lifted his hands to kiss his knuckles, the action calming him slightly. 

          “Yeah, we’re ready,” Gregory agreed, looking back over to the doctor. 

          “So, my first question is actually for you, Greg. I see in the questionnaire that you’re a little older than Mycroft, but we’re electing to preserve his specimens today. Why is that exactly?” She asked gently, taking out a pen and paper to take notes. Mycroft’s eyes went wide at the question, quickly turning to look at his partner, his grip growing a tad tighter on the others. They couldn’t exactly tell the doctor it was because he was just over two thousand years old, but what else would Gregory say?

          “I um… well. We know we want to have a family, but I think his side is better than mine for this. I don’t mind, if that’s what you mean. His family tends to be healthier than mine.” She seemed to accept that and moved on, asking a few more basic questions, about their jobs, if they had ever helped raise children before, and some others before turning the questioning over to the two of them. “How long will it last? Once frozen?” Gregory asked after a beat, squeezing Mycroft’s hand gently as the doctor leaned back in her chair. 

          “We tend to recommend that it not be used after twelve years, but that’s not to say that it’s gone after that point. Of course, we can always take a new sample if it comes to that. Thought I would recommend to do it sooner rather than later if you’re able to.” She said, Gregory nodding as he looked back to him. “I think we can do that, yeah?” Twelve years? Granted Gregory still had more than twelve years in him, but that didn’t mean that he would have his memories by then. What if in that time he still hadn’t regained them, what if this wasn’t their last go around, and then they would be stuck. Gregory was trying to give him some reassurance, but his nerves were on end and his brain was going in every direction, wondering if maybe he had got his hopes up too high about all of this. Could they really do this? Even if he did, who was to say in twelve years they could… that short of time had never seemed so worrying to him that it did in that moment. Swallowing hard, Mycroft looked to the other, still not exactly sure how to respond, almost forgetting that there was someone else awaiting an answer. “As I said, we can always take another sample,” The doctor offered, glancing between the two of them before clearing her throat. “I’ll give you two a moment to talk it over in private.” She excused herself, stepping out of the room and shutting the door behind her. 

           “My, sweetie… one way or another, we’ll find a way for this to work.” Gregory reassured him once they were alone, lifting his hands to his lips. “I don’t know how to explain it, but I feel like my memories will be back soon. Knowing you, it’s gone from not having a clue of what was going on, to almost being able to feel the gaps, where there is more and what to search out in my head. We don’t have to do this, if you don’t think it’s the right time. It’s okay.” 

           “This will be the only time, Gregory. I am on the tipping point, I’m over two thousand years old, and the longer I wait, the more risky it becomes. I only worry that in twelve years time, we won’t be ready, then what happens? We could take another sample, but then we may have a child that can’t stay with us…” Mycroft tried to keep his voice soft, but the worry was getting to him and he could feel his heart speed up at the thought of it all. Gregory was so positive, and trying to imagine that he would be with him soon, but after two thousand years and twelve lives, he was a tad skeptical. 

           “Then we take a sample from me once I get my memories back, and we have a child that way.” Gregory murmured, trying to catch his gaze. “That could work too, right? We’ll have our family one way or another, My. I promise. We both want it, I’ve wanted it again and again, it’s only a matter of time before it happens. I’m sure of it.” 

           “Yes, but it’s just as worrying to me that we will have a child that cannot stay with us because you were not immortal born,” There wasn’t anything to say that mortal borns weren’t able to have immortal children, but most who had tried hadn’t been successful, so it was just a known fact in the community that you stay with the immortal’s side. “We both want it, yes, but that does not mean that life is so kind as to give it to us. It may happen, just not the way we wish, and we may end up having a child we have to say goodbye to.” 

           “My, love. Listen to me.” Gregory said a bit loud, sliding out of his chair to kneel down in front of him. “If we were to try for a child from me, then yes, we would run the risk of being mortal. But look at Anthea and Ryan. Ryan was moral, and now he’s not, and who’s to say their little boy won’t be? I’m not saying now, just… later. If it doesn’t work from your side, maybe mine,” He explained, gently reaching up with one hand to cup Mycroft’s cheek while squeezing his hands with another. “Let’s just try this one step right now, yeah? The worst is that it doesn’t become anything.” Taking a deep breath, he knew the other was right. He had connections in high places, people in Baskerville that would be able to help them, to have a child with both of their DNA instead of just Gregory’s which is what would usually cause the problems. Nodding, he watched as the man stood, placing a small kiss on his forehead and walking to the door to get the doctor. 

           “We would like to continue with the procedure,” Mycroft sounded a tad more confident than he felt, but he held tight to Gregory’s hand as the man took a seat next to him once more. 

           “Good, I’m glad to hear that. Now, we will leave you alone in here, I will place a cup on the counter, and when you are finished, just open the door and someone will be right back with you. We will check for viability, and then you will be all set.” Moving to the small set of cupboards, the doctor pulled out a small, clear cup and set it on the counter along with a lid before walking to the door and looking to Gregory. “Typically, we just have the donor in the room during this time…” She stated, her tone implying that they wouldn’t argue if he chose to have Gregory in there, but it was frowned upon. 

           “I’ll, uh… I’ll be out in the waiting room, yeah? This is pretty much the last step right?” He asked, the doctor coughing back a laugh at how red Gregory’s cheeks were before nodding. 

           “Yes, it is. Once we collect our sample, you’ll be free to leave and we’ll send you a package in the mail later on about it’s storage, and how to go about retrieving it once you’re ready to start your family.” She explained, Gregory brushing his fingers lightly through his hair before following the doctor out. Mycroft was rather nervous, now feeling rather alone and not sure if he could do this. Swallowing thickly, he stood and took a deep breath, walking over to where the cup sat and picked it up before moving back to his seat. Setting the receptacle to the side, he unzipped his trousers and pulled them down, just enough so he could get his prick free, looking down at his trembling hands. God this was going to be difficult. After five or so minutes of trying with no luck, he sighed and pulled out his mobile. 

 

> _ Gregory, I’m not sure I can do this, please, come back here, it’s not working. -M _
> 
> **My, relax. Me being in there won’t make things any better if it’s that you’re psyching yourself out right now. -G**
> 
> **Breath Sweetheart. Just sit back and think about us. Think about when you took me to Rome and our adventures there. -G**
> 
>  

          Groaning, Mycroft scrunched his nose at the reply, but tried to take it to heart. Taking a few deep breaths, he closed his eyes, wrapping a hand around himself and trying to think of Rome, to think of anything really they had done together, but it was still doing nothing for him, in fact, it was rather uncomfortable, sitting in an office and trying to tease himself alone in public. 

 

> _ Gregory, I have tried, and nothing will make this better. No matter what I think about or do, it won’t… please don’t make me write it out. -M _
> 
> **This is a completely private number, right? No one else will ever see what’s sent between us? -G**
> 
> _ Completely private. -M _
> 
> **Think about yesterday when I got home, and you surprised me with the freezer. -G**
> 
> **Me on my knees, my tongue teasing the head of your cock. Think of me with my fingers teasing along your arse and kissing down your length to mouth at your balls. -G**
> 
> _ I think I might need a little more than just that, it’s still not performing. -M _
> 
> **If I was there with you, I’d come up behind you, my arms wrapped around to hold you tight against me. One hand on your thigh, the other starting slowly around your cock, firm stroke up, but only giving you the slightest brush with my thumb over the head before coming back down again. -G**
> 
>  

          Closing his eyes, Mycroft tried to imagine what the other was saying, his cheeks feeling a tad heated as he thought about it, his hands reaching down to do exactly as Gregory had said; firm on the up, but just a light brush at the top. His lips parted as his breathing started to pick up, looking back down at his mobile to try and type with one hand. 

> _ Go on dear, -M _
> 
> **I would keep going slow until there was enough precum to start moving a little more, sliding my thumb along your slit as I started moving faster, twisting my wrist just a bit with each stroke to keep you on edge. -G**
> 
> _ I really wish this was your hand darling. -M _
> 
> **I’ll make it up to you in the car. -G**
> 
> **I’d start stroking harder, firmer, and flicking my thumb over the head each time, knowing how much you like it rough, how much you want the teasing while having your way with me, and how you always get your way too. -G**
> 
> _ Guess you might be baking the driver sweets again, because I don’t plan on letting you off easy. -M _
> 
> _ Gods, Gregory. How did I get so lucky, you know exactly what I like, and I want it rough, I want to feel you, please love. -M _
> 
> **Or you can get a new car with better sound proofing. -G**
> 
> **You’ll feel me, My. My hand on your cock, holding you still as I stroke you hard and fast, twisting my wrist just under your head, my hand tight, to hold you right where I want you to be. -G**
> 
> _ Nonsense, my car is state of the art. I can’t help it that neither of us is particularly quiet. -M _
> 
> _ Please Gregory, I’m getting there, but not close enough to finish, I want to do this, want to take this step, have a child with you, so help me. -M _
> 
> **I’ll just have to gag you with your tie, then. -G**
> 
> **I love you, My. I want this too. -G**
> 
> **Can you feel me holding you? My fingers on your skin, my hand teasing over your balls and stroking them while the other pumps you hard and fast, teasing over that hot skin at the tip where you’re dripping for me. -G**
> 
> _ I wouldn’t want to go to the office with my tie unkempt, dear. -M _
> 
> _ Yes love, I want to feel you so bad, those rough hands around my aching prick, your hot breath on my neck as you whisper and moan into my ear, your chest pressed against my back. -M _
> 
> **Then you better stay quiet don’t you think? -G**
> 
> **My beautiful Mycroft, come for me. I want to feel you shiver and moan, the way you try and fight it but your pleasure always wins. I want to see you give in, how lost you are in it. -G**
> 
> _ You chide me as if you are the quiet one between us. -M _

          Mycroft read that last message, setting his mobile down on his knee and taking the cup in his other hand, lining everything up and just closing his eyes to think of his dearest Gregory. He could almost hear the man’s voice in his ear, and it didn’t take much imagination as it was the same voice he had listened to for the past two millenniums. After a few more strokes, the heat in his belly unfurled, splashing over him as he bit his bottom lip to keep himself quiet, panting as he continued to work himself over. He wanted to get every last drop that he could to put towards their future. After a few moments, when he had calmed down and gathered himself, Mycroft stood and set the cup back down on the paper towel, washing his hands and then screwing the lid on tight before zipping his trousers and opening the door. It didn’t seem to take long for someone to come back to the room, taking the cup and telling him that the Doctor would see him in just a few minutes. After about ten, Mycroft was starting to get antsy when finally she returned, a smile on her face. 

          “Well Mr. Holmes, everything looks great and they have been put into storage. If you ever have any questions, feel free to come and see us, or give us a call.” Smiling, he stood, collecting his jacket and moving to shake her hand. 

           “Thank you. I’m sure we will be in touch,” As his team was finding a way to get the sample transferred to his safe at home. Walking out of the room, Mycroft saw Gregory sitting in a chair, a dazed smile on his face and Mycroft almost chuckled, knowing exactly why it was there. 

           “Hey hun” Gregory murmured, finally noticing him and standing. “So? Ready?” 

           “Yes, everything looks good.” As they walked out the door, Gregory paused and placed his hands on his chest. 

           “I love you, my silly man. I can’t wait to actually have our own family.” 

           “I love you as well my heart, and there is nothing I have wanted more with you than that.” 


	28. XXVII

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for being so patient with us over the break! Here's a special chapter, a little Jolto action. Don't worry though, we'll be back to the lovely Mycroft and Greg next week!

          Everything was stacking up on his desk, the papers never ending and the time just ticking away as his resolve grew thinner and thinner. After a few moments, Mycroft sighed, taking off his reading glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose. His eyes had been giving him problems today, and he had taken his contacts out earlier to try and relieve some of the stress, but it only seemed to help for a short while. As if to make matters worse, a knock came at his door, and he could hear someone entering. That mean Anthea had something for him, which would only be piled on top of everything else.

          “What is it now my dear?” He questioned, looking up and placing his glasses back on, watching as she rubbed her sides and back as she stood near his desk. “Is your back giving you troubles again? Dear, if you need time off, please take it. You are getting so close to the end, and if I may say, you are rather large now. Don’t push yourself,” Standing, Mycroft moved to grab a chair for her, gesturing to sit and started to rub out some of the knots in her lower back when she did.

          “Six more weeks, then this little one’s out of here,” Anthea joked softly, sighing contently as Mycroft continued to rub her back. “I wish I were here simply for this, but I can’t say it’s so. I’ve received notice today that John’s company will be deployed out to Kandahar.” She said quietly, Mycroft’s hands stilling for a moment at the news. “I know, I felt the same fear when I heard the news myself. He’s a medic though, he’ll be protected. His commanding officer is known for being cautious and careful with his men. There was little more that I could do without showing our hand in wanting to protect John, and I didn’t want to risk raising attention. He has already been stationed in Afghanistan for a year, it would be odd for them to not deploy him with his company at this point.” Anthea explained, looking up to study his expression. “I’ll reschedule your four and six o’clock appointments for another day and get you a pot of tea.” Mycroft sat still as he watched her climb out of the chair and turning to pat him on the shoulder. “It’ll be alright. I know it doesn’t feel it, but John is a smart man. He’ll keep himself out of danger.”

*****

           There were some parts of Afghanistan that John Watson enjoyed. The stars at night were beautiful, and the mountains were as well, but the miles of desert he was currently surrounded by, were very much not on his list of enjoyable things. Grumbling under his breath at how he could never quite get the sand out of his short hair, the doctor made his way from the medical tent to the mess tent, smiling faintly to himself when he saw James Sholto sitting quietly to the side with a spread of files in front of him, along with a newspaper which currently held far more of his attention than his work.

           “Major,” John greeted warmly as he sat across from him, his smile growing into a grin when the man wordlessly handed over the sports section without looking up. “You know me so well. I heard we’ll be going on an adventure, sir?”

            “Well, an adventure is one way to put it, but really, it’s just another station. I just hope to keep our group together and have us all return safely.” James looked up for just a small second with a soft smile before returning his attention back to the paper in front of him. Skimming over the scores, he folded up the paper and set it to the side, looking back at the man across from him.

            “Well, that’s where I come in,” He chuckled with a shrug, picking at the mostly abandoned plate of chips in front of James as he looked around at the others who were chattering amongst themselves about the impending assignment. “I’ll still call it an adventure. Makes the other lads more interested in it, instead of it being more sand. What do you expect for us, with this assignment that is?” John asked after a minute, shifting to turn slightly more towards his commanding officer. “Will we have a town nearby? I’d like to be able to still do my goodwill missions to help locals. God knows that’s helped us plenty of times before with information”

            “Will we have a town nearby? Watson, this mission takes place in the second largest city in Afghanistan, the capital of the Taliban…” James looked up at him, his features a tad stern. “It’s dangerous there, more than here, probably more than any other region this group has been stationed in.” John could see the worry in the Major’s face, and his smile started to fade, worried he hadn’t read his briefing correctly. “I know that you want to do good Watson, and I respect that and admire that quality in you, but you are under my watch, my supervision, and I can’t let anything happen to you.” John sighed as he scratched at his scalp, pulling a face at the bit of grit he felt build up under his nails before returning his attention to his friend.

            “And I know you’ll take good care of us all, Major. I’m sure that we’ll have neighbors that can help us. We know that they don’t want to be a part of the Taliban, but we certainly don’t have their trust coming in guns blazing either. It’ll help us just to be able to talk with them. If we have their trust, then we’ll have the upper hand, right?” John argued gently, knowing full well that maybe having a game of footie with the local children wasn’t about to happen any time soon. “We trust you sir, we all do, and once we all get there, I’m sure we’ll bunker down and focus on what needs to be done.” James set down the paper finally, folding it back up and giving him his full attention.

            “I expect a lot from you, Watson. I trust you, and I hope that you know that. I will take your advice, and hope that with you by my side, we might be able to do some good here.” John froze when James put his hand over his own, his shoulders relaxing as he looked back at the man with a fond smile, gently pulling their hands back down off the table so no one else would see, though he did give a light rub the back of the man’s hand before returning his to his own lap. “I’m glad that if I have to take a group out there, at least you will be there with me,”

            “I’ll have your back as long as I’m here with you,” John promised, his face warming as they watched each other for a moment longer before John broke, clearing his throat and looking away again. “We’ll do good sir, I’m sure of it. With you as our commander, we can’t do much else,”

            “I’m glad that someone on our team has confidence in me then,” There was another small smirk on the Majors lips. “Well, is there anything in particular the men are doing on the last night here? Something I should know about?”

            “Karaoke, you should come. It’ll be a team building exercise.” John answered, immediately breaking into laughter at the look of absolute horror on his Major’s face. “Don’t worry sir, none of us are expecting you to come. There’s been plenty of offers to buy you a round if you did show up, but they all know that’s not your thing. I might show up later in the evening, but I’ve got a lot of chores ahead of me, mostly laundry and packing.” He was planning on sending out a letter when he got the chance to his sister, letting her know he was changing stations, even though he knew it was a bit useless to do so. So far in his first year, he had gotten two letters, one was his sister's wedding announcement, which he hadn’t even known of her engagement, and another announcing the adoption of two siblings, which again, he had known nothing about until that little card arrived addressed to him. It was useless to try and keep in touch with Harry, but it was still the right thing to do.

            “Well, it’s good to know my crew seems to understand that is something I won’t do,” James gave a shaky smile, looking up to him.

            “Do you have any exciting plans, sir? Or will you do the same thing you do every night and try to take over the world?”

            “Probably just a quiet night in, doing much of the same you plan on doing. I’m not sure about taking over the world, Watson, but I will never leave that off the table completely,” John couldn’t help but chuckle and shake his head, smiling back up at the man. “If you miss out on karaoke, or just don’t feel up to singing, I’m sure I wouldn’t mind the company tonight if you wanted a quiet evening as well, Watson.” Looking up, he could see the other hesitate for a few seconds before quickly adding something more. “I understand though if you would rather not spend the last even here with you Major.” Chucking, John watched as James stood, his expression stiff as he gave one last smile and a curt nod. When Sholto left, John sat back and closed his eyes, trying to relax for a bit before going back to his normal grind. It wasn’t terrible, just boring packing and signing off of forms to transfer command to the new incoming doctor, but it had to be done in true military fashion, which involved far more paperwork than completely necessary. It was near nine at night when John was finally finished with everything he needed to do, truly horrible singing floating along the edge of camp along with loud bursts of laughter. It was a nice change from their normal, but he had little interest in joining them. Instead, he tucked his laptop under his arm and, along with some popcorn, tracked his way to the officer’s quarters, knocking on Sholto’s door and smiling when he answered looking thoroughly confused and vaguely concerned.

          “Since it’ll probably be our last calm night in a while, I was thinking maybe we could watch a film? No point in sulking around by ourselves.”

          “O-oh, s-sure… come right in, please…” John bit back a laugh at how James stuttered in confusion before letting him in, setting everything down on the small table that double as a desk in the room that only felt larger than anyone else’s because it wasn’t shared. He had been to his Major’s quarters before, but always for business in helping with reports, or turning in his own late paperwork in the evening when surgeries had gone long. Never had they crossed that silent barrier separating line of command until now, though John felt emboldened by their small show of affection for one another earlier on.

          “Just a film, sir. Though, if I may, I would prefer it as between two friends.” He offered, looking up at the man with a warm smile before turning to his computer and pulling up the different movies he had saved to it over time.

          “As friends, of course,” James quickly answered, nodding his agreement and standing to the side, his hands behind his back.

          “I have Indiana Jones, Lord of the Rings, James Bond… I’m sure I could find other movies if there’s something you’d rather watch.”

          “I can’t say I have watched any of those, Watson.” The Major’s voice was soft as he looked to him, his eyes going wide after a few seconds. “I-I’m sorry, John. I meant to say, I can’t say I have watched any of those, _John,”_ John laughed softly as his Major continued to stand nervously to the side, shifting over to silently invite him to sit down on the bed, since there wasn’t anywhere else to watch the movie.

          “It’s fine, it’s what we’re used to calling each other, um, James,” He assured him, having to pause to keep from calling him sir. “Though, if I knew your movie knowledge was so limited, I would have told the lads to have a movie night instead,” John teased with a light hearted grin, deciding on Indiana Jones since they had a better chance of finishing them than any of the others.

          “I’m not sure that I would have attended a movie night either with the crew. As much as I would have appreciated the invitation, I’m sure you have noticed I prefer to be alone.” James gave a shaky smile as the man climbed onto the bed to sit next to him. Opening the popcorn and just using the bag instead of fussing with a bowl, John waited until the other man looked about as comfortable as he was going to get before pressing play. He sat back, allowing their shoulders to touch, just slightly, just enough to have a point of contact like they had earlier that day. John relaxed back against the wall as they settled into watching their film, shifting every now and then to make sure that James could still easily see the screen. He wanted to look over at his friend, see how he was enjoying the movie and their time together, but he knew the Major better than to draw attention to him. Instead, he stole a few glances now and again out of the corner of his eye, trying to hide the smile that came from how relaxed he finally looked half way through, the man even laughing now and again at some of the scenes. It was nice, dangerously so for men of their positions in the military, but John ignored that for now. Should questions ever arise, they were just two friends having a movie night together before being deployed out on a new mission. Finishing the movie without so much as a spoken word between them, John sat the computer on the bed to give his legs a break for a few minutes.

           “Would you like to watch another? I could always see if I can find one online if you have something else in mind.” John offered, looking back at James fully this time, finding himself hopeful to maybe spend just a little longer with him before leaving. “Another movie will put us past midnight, so I understand if you’d rather call it a night, though.”

           “Oh, I-I guess another film wouldn’t hurt. Your choice again, though. I’m afraid I’m not too savvy with films.” John rolled his eyes as he gave James a good natured shove to his shoulders when the man said he wasn’t particularly good with films.

           “Well, there are three Indiana Jones films, so we’ll watch one more tonight, or we’ll both be falling asleep in the convoy if we watch all of them. I swear though, the next time we have leave together, we’re having a marathon and I’m showing you as many James Bond movies as I can fit into a week.” He grinned, rubbing his legs to relax them a bit before setting his computer back on his lap so they could stay close. Maybe it was a little selfish, but John loved it and it seemed that James felt the same even if he would never say it outloud. “It’s a nice escape from everything out there, you know? I know you prefer to read most of the time, but it’s nice to be able to check out completely every now and again.”

           “You want to spend a week of your leave time with me?” James’ voice was soft as he questioned him, his eyes wide. John nodded as he looked over at the man, seeing genuine shock that someone would want to spend time with him, which made his chest clinch.

           “I would, yeah. I’d rather do that than anything else.” He admitted softly, glancing down at the small space between them where James had his hand, hesitantly placing his over it like they had done earlier. There were so many lines they had already crossed, that one more shouldn’t have felt so big, and really, he was just returning the affection from earlier, but that certainly didn’t stop his heart from racing, waiting for James to pull his hand away from him. “God knows I certainly don’t get along with my sister, and all my other friends are here. I’d rather enjoy myself than go and find trouble at a pub with nothing else to do.” John added softly, looking once more at his Major before falling silent as the film started. He tried to pay attention, but the only reason he was able to follow along between the wild storm of thoughts and questions in his head, was the fact that he had watched them all to the point that he could quote half of the scenes if he tried. John lifted his hand slightly when he felt James move his, already internally cursing himself for pushing the man too far. The man was skittish on the best of days, and this entire night had been on the edge of his comfort zone, but when he felt James flip his hand and intertwine their fingers, he couldn’t help but look down in surprise. They were both scared of doing something wrong, and both were trying to pretend like they weren’t breaking a handful of rules about commanding officers, but John looked back up and gave the man a fond smile, squeezing his hand in return before continuing to watch their film. Periodically, he passed his thumb over the man’s knuckles in silent assurance to them that this was real. By the time the film ended, John found himself yawning quite a bit, though he also didn’t want to leave back to his bunk with the other rowdy men and drunken snoring. “I’ll fall asleep if we put on the last one,” John admitted softly with a laugh, looking over at James who was watching him now as well. “Better than paperwork and reading, I hope?”

         “Y-Yes, much better indeed.” The man stuttered, clearing his throat as he looked to him. John smiled gently back, realising that they were far closer than just two friends, and that far too many lines had already been crossed and they truly need to talk about what it all meant, but that awkward innocence in his Major’s voice melted the resolve in his heart. Before he was aware of what he was doing, John had leaned up to meeting his commanding officer, their lips pressed together in a chaste kiss. Their lips were chapped from the desert heat and sand, their faces rough with stubble from the day, but there was a warmth and a want until they both realised what had been done.

          “I-” The doctor stuttered, pulling away from James with his face burning bright in embarrassment. “I-I’m sorry sir. I shouldn’t have done that. I… I should,” John scrambled for words, knowing he should go, but still wanting to stay, a tiny part of him hoping that James would tell him that it was okay, or at least that he wouldn’t assign him to another commander. John fell silent though, when James leaned back in, the man’s hand going to his cheek as he pressed another kiss to his lips, his own hands wandering back up to hold the officer’s neck. “Hey,” he murmured after a minute, once the two of them had separated, laughing nervously as he hid his face in the taller man’s shoulder. “I… this is… I like this. This is nice,” He finally admitted with a grin, nuzzling ever so slightly into James’ neck. “I know we can’t get caught, but… I’m willing to try, if you are.”

          “This is nice, and if we were in different circumstances, I would want to continue this. Unfortunately, I don’t want to risk your honour and have you discharged on my account. That’s not to say I don’t want to take advantage of this now, though,” Once John trusted himself to not make a fool of himself, he leaned back and trailed his fingers along the side of James’ neck.

          “We’ll be careful then,” He agreed softly, his hand running down to rest over the man’s heart as he reached up to kiss him again. It was wonderful, amazing, and John so easily lost himself the third time since he now knew they were both on the same page. Yes, they had to be careful, that was certainly obvious, but it was nice feeling the normally stoic man relax and press against him, both of them breathing into each other and slowly opening more into one another’s kisses to taste and tease. God this was intoxicating, feeling the man against him as James’ grip tightened in his hair, and his tongue ran along his bottom lip. Opening up, he felt the man shiver against him as they tasted and claimed each other’s mouths. After a few minutes though, he pulled back and pressed his forehead to the other, panting as they tried to catch their breath.

          “John,” James’ voice was soft as he looked up at him, his lips kiss swollen and eyes halfway open, full of want. It was amazing to find out how different he could be in this sort of situation, loving how wrong he was with his assumption that he would have to lead.

          “Hey,” John murmured again, brushing his hand through his commanding officer’s hair in turn, before reaching up just enough to press a light kiss to his cheek, then his forehead before sitting back so they could both catch their breath a tiny bit easier. “You have me, James, you know that. Like this, on the field… as long as we’re together.” There was only a few moments before James moved back towards him, gasping as he was pressed on his back into the bed, having never been with a man like this outside of a few make-outs here and there when he was in uni. Laughing softly at the shock of it all, he was pinned down, and his laughs turned to breathless moans as James nipped and sucked at his skin, leaving little marks that he was sure would be easy enough to excuse away with all of the bruises they collected from day to day. “Fuck,” He breathed as James ran his hand under his shirt, arching up into his touch while he ran his own hands over the Major’s back. “Christ, James…”

          “John,” The man groaned, his voice thick and rough as he continued to run his hands over his skin. John swallowed thickly as he tugged his shirt off, letting it fall to the side before taking James’ wrists into his hands and flipping them over, grinning down at his Major as he looked back up at him in surprise.

          “Hey,” He said with a laugh, returning the same nips and kisses along James’ neck and pushing up the man’s shirt, trailing his lips over his stomach, chest and grinning at how the man shivered and skirted away from him. John was one who could submit, but taking control over his Major, this was a thrill. “You’re amazing, you know that? Handsome and brilliant and utterly fantastic.”

          “My god John, I don’t think you will ever understand what your words and kindness do to me,” John moaned into James’ mouth, the heat of their skin pressed against one another far more erotic than it ought to be.

          “I have an idea,” He teased between rough kisses, quickly becoming a tangle of limbs, pressing their hips together so he could feel the man’s growing bulge in his trousers. “Christ, James… In another life I’d have you any way I could get you.” John breathed, their height difference making it a little tricky now and again to both tease and kiss on another at the same time, but god was it worth it.

          “John” James’ voice was thick and heavy, John shivering as he felt the man’s hands move to his arse, pressing them in close. He couldn’t help himself but fantasise what it would be like to have James truly take him. “Maybe someday, when we aren’t in this damned desert,”

          “I swear, when we get that leave together,” He murmured, smiling gently down at the man below him as he shifted his weight to be able to brush his hands along the other’s cheek. Leaning down to kiss him one last time, John dropped himself to James’ side, wrapping an arm around his stomach and peppering kisses wherever he could reach. “I don’t want to go. We’ll have plenty of that on this deployment, I just want this a little longer…”

          “Don’t leave,” James whispered after a few moments, the man’s hand running over his arm. “No one has to know that you stayed here tonight, and we can just wake up before the morning bell to slip back to your quarters.” John laughed softly as James tried to convince him to stay, though it certainly didn’t take much at all for him to agree with another long kiss. He didn’t need to say that he agreed to James’ offer, sure that his action proved his point as he pulled the man back on top of him.

          “Don’t worry about that, James. I’ll figure out something come morning. I’ll make sure to at least let you know when I leave so you won’t wake up alone.” He murmured, only pulling away from the other so they could speak in a whisper.

          “You are too kind, John Watson,” He smiled as James settled down against his chest, his fingers immediately carding through the man’s hair as they slowly drifted towards sleep, though John found himself fighting it, wanting desperately to enjoy their time together just a tiny bit longer. Though all too soon, he was finding himself with his eyes closed, James already breathing slow and deep against him when he finally gave in.

*****

          Groaning, James could just hear John’s voice through his sleepy haze, shifting on the bed and turning over so he face the man, his eyes still closed. He didn’t want this to be over, didn’t want to have to pretend that none of this had happened, to go back to the way things were.

          “James, I’ve got to go, I’m sorry.”

          “I don’t want you to leave,” Voice thick and heavy with sleep, James blinked his eyes open, looking up into that warm smile, his heart doing a small flutter. After a few minutes, he shifted up and pressed a soft kiss to the man’s lips, trying to draw this out for just a few moment longer. “I will be counting down the days to our next leave.”

          “I don’t want to leave either, James, but you know you’ll still have me at your side. No doubt we can find a moment or two simply to have with each other, even if it can’t be anything like this. I will be looking forward to it as well, sir. I’ll see you plenty soon.” The bed felt empty and his room felt rather lonely after John left, and no matter how he tried, James could not fall back asleep. Instead, he got himself up, dressed and ready for the day, working on a bit more of the paperwork from last night when the alarm sounded in his room and he had to leave for the day. He was to oversee the troops that would be coming with him, and he knew that the men would already be up and waiting for him to give some sort of words of encouragement before they left, but he was hesitant to get there, knowing he was going to have to pretend as if nothing happened between John and himself. Taking a deep breath, James exited his quarters and headed out, rehearsing different scenarios in his head, trying to think of excuses in case any of the men noted how they were behaving.

          There was a lot of chatter coming from the troops as he walked in, all of them seemingly teasing John, so of course, his mind went into defense as he stopped, ready for the jeers and snide remarks the men had for him. Instead he was greeting with John gathering them all together, and turning to salute him with a good morning and a warm smile. Raising his hand in salute, he dropped it a few moments later, telling the men to stand at east.

          “Morning Watson. Men,” James looked to the rest of them, trying to gather what it had been that they were talking about, but all of them staying relatively silent. “Today we take leave to Kandahar, and as many of you may know, it is the second largest city if Afghanistan, and also the capital location for the Taliban. It won’t be safe, nor will it be an easy mission, but I have faith in you all that we will make it home together. I trust you are all packed and ready, as we will leave at o’six hundred hours.” After a few moments, James turned his attention back to John in front of him. “Watson, I need a word with you. At ease gentlemen.” Walking to the side, James waited as the other followed him, moving till they were far enough away that they could speak without extra ears overhearing.

          “James?”

          “John, I’m sorry…” He started, his throat swelling a tad as he watched the other men looking over to John and snicker, wondering if they knew and were already teasing the man about it. “I didn’t mean to cause you any trouble, and I do worry that the men will say something that will get us both discharged. What have they said to you so far this morning,” He questioned, trying to keep a straight face, keeping space between them so they didn’t seem too friendly. “I could tell they were questioning you about last night, and teasing you about… well… sleeping with myself, but how much do they actually know about _us_?”

          “It’s okay, really. They don’t know about us, sir. They assumed I had been out sleeping with a nurse or some woman from the local area. I didn’t elect to correct them because it’s a good alibi for the both of us. It’s okay, we’re okay. They just like teasing me because the nurses flirt with me.” Pulling back a little and straightening his stance, his hands behind his back, James looked off at the other men, trying to will the heat to leave his cheeks.

          “Oh, of course. I’m not sure that is appropriate though, Watson. You wouldn’t want those nurses thinking they have a chance, as that would be fraternisation with a captain.”  His face was serious for a moment, before he turned back to look at those warm eyes in front of him, his lips twisting into a small smirk.

          “They don’t have a chance, sir. Not against you.”

          “Now, shall we get ready to ship out?” He questioned, his tone much softer this time. Moving back towards the men, James stood at John’s side, close enough for it to be pleasant, but not too close.

          “Alright men. Five to a vehicle. Communication in the front, I’ll be in the second vehicle, Major Sholto in the third. That does _not_ make the last two the party train, understood?” John called out, as the troops responded with a ‘sir, yes sir’ in unison. “See you there?” Even though he ranked higher than John, it was a turn on to watch the doctor command the men and pull rank, more than it should be.

          “Yes Watson, see you there,” He smiled, giving the man a good natured pat on the shoulder, his hand lingering just a tad longer as his thumb brushed a small circled before letting it slid off and back into position behind him.

           The ride was long, probably longer because he had to listen to the men in his vehicle chat about ‘Three Continent Watson,’ and which nurse they thought he was with the night before. Frowning, James tried to focus on anything other than their mindless chatter, and instead just found his mood spiraling further down as they got closer and closer to the city. He was just ready to be out of there and settling into his new quarters. When the vehicle finally came to a stop, James was the first one out, wanting away from the other, and needing a moment to clear his mind. Standing off to the side, he pulled out his canteen and took a long chug of water, looking around the area and taking note of anything that stood out to him. Once all the cars had arrived and everyone had exited the vehicles, James returned to the group, standing straight laced.

           “Ten-hut!” His voice wasn’t extremely loud, but it commanded attention as the men assumed the same position and the sound instantly ceased. “I understand this is new and possibly exciting territory for all of you, but we must follow protocol. I need you all to divide into teams, set up the station, unpack your things, and help with any changes that need to be done before the current squad can leave. Do I make myself clear?” A quick chorus of ‘sir, yes sir,’ answered him before everyone broke off to do as they were told. James quickly busied himself with the paperwork and familiarising himself with the office staff as well as his new quarters, both professional and personal. He almost didn’t notice what time it was until one of his new assistants came in and informed him that they were doing last calls for the cafeteria. Nodding and mumbling his thanks, James stood and walked out, rubbing a hand over his face as he sighed. He was rather glad to find the room mostly empty, save for a few privates who were talking amongst themselves. Grabbing a dish and the paper, James sat in the furthest corner from everyone, distracting himself by reading whatever articles the news had, slowing picking away at his food. After a good ten minutes or so, he was almost startled by John’s voice so close to him, looking up and giving the man a small nod before look back down at the story in front of him.

           “Sir, is everything alright?”

           “Quite alright, Watson. Yourself? Is your medical staff to your liking?”

           “I’m good, sir. They’re quite good, though I can tell I’ll still have my work cut out for me. Definitely going to be more serious here than before.” John said softly. “And I know that’s what you said earlier, sir. I’m simply agreeing. Our boys are good though, they won’t go waltzing about thinking this is fun and games.”

           “Good, good.” James muttered, letting out a small sigh and continuing to look at his paper. He wasn’t particularly invested in it, seeing as he had been reading the same lines over and over again, but he didn’t want to face the reason he was upset. It was ridiculous, childish and petty, so it was something he wanted to ignore. After a few minutes of silence, he finally set down the paper, having given up. “John, I’m sorry. I owe you more than this. I’m just a tad… embarrassed about my behaviour. I hope you will forgive me.”

           “Sir?” John asked, looking a tad confused. “James, we’re in the middle of an active war zone. I’ll take what I can get while we’re still able to have it,” James’ cheeks flushed as the other pressed a foot against his own, a small gesture, but still, it was something. “I understand being anxious about everything, I do. We’re two different personality types, so I can shrug it off while I know you analyse every little detail. I’m happy. If you’re not sure about this and think we should stop, I understand that too.”

           “No, I don’t think we should stop, that is not what I am referring too. It’s a bit hard for me to admit, but I’ve been acting off because I was rather… well, how do I put this? I didn’t like the idea of you with the nurses, or the nurses flirting with you in general.” The last bit was quiet, his words rushed as he looked back down, trying to stop his cheeks from getting even more red than they already were. “It’s childish behaviour, I know, and I apologise.”

           “It’s kinda hot when you’re jealous.” Taking a sip from his drink, he was rather thankful that the man waited with that last comment or he would have spit it everywhere. Instead he just sputtered, his cheeks redder than they had been in a while. “I understand, sir. I’ll nip it more here than I did before. It was just good humour before, but now… you look exhausted, sir. You should get some sleep.” It wasn’t that he wanted to cause any more work for the other, or even draw attention to the fact that he was jealous over harmless flirting, knowing it was bound to happen as John was a good looking man and he was sweet, kind and caring.

           “I don’t mean to cause a fuss about it, even if you do find it… attractive,” James stuttered again, trying to calm himself down from that embarrassment, tugging at his collar. “It’s more my issue and I never thought I would experience such a… feeling, but, it happens,” Shrugging, he looked back up at the other, his heart warming as he saw the smile on his face. “I would, but I’m afraid after last night, these new quarters will seem rather… empty and hard to sleep in,”

           “Once some time passes, maybe we can sneak another movie night in,” John said softly, his foot moving to rub up his leg a tad. “I’ll sort out something, I’m sure, and while we might not be able to have an entire leave to ourselves, maybe we could get a day or two overlap now and again. We’ll figure out something. Plenty others make it work half a world apart.” Slipping a hand under the table, James looked around the room to the cleaning staff mopping up and most of the troops having left before returning his gaze to John and resting his hand on the man’s knee.

           “Another movie night would be good. I do believe you said there is another Indian Jones movie I need to watch?” His voice was soft and warm as he smiled to the man, rubbing his thumb in small circles. “I would love to spend any time I can with you, but next time, I don’t think I will need a whole day or two.” A tad cheeky, James gave the other a knowing smile, enjoying that time, it was John that was sputtering just slightly.

           “Should know never to underestimate you.”

           “Yes, well now that the fear of rejection has passed, you’ll get to see exactly the commanding behaviour that got me promoted to Major,” James chuckled, picking at the last bit of his food as John placed his hand on top of his. “Well, I do think you are right, and _both_ of us should get some sleep. We will have a busy first day tomorrow, getting set into our routines. I’m sorry it won’t be shared, but… soon, right?” James smiled, for once since last night, feeling good about their situation.

           “Soon.” John promised with a warm smile.


	29. XXVIII

           At noon he had taken off, not worrying about having to give an excuse to Anthea as she was already on leave and this was her last night in London until after the baby was born. It was an immortal tradition, to have your child at home, as they didn’t want doctors doing all the tests and poking and prodding, especially with science as advanced as it was now. Instead, they chose to have it at home, and there were doctors within the community that could come if you so wished. It was a personal choice though, and Mycroft hadn’t asked Anthea what she was doing, figuring if she really wanted to tell him, she would. Picking up the decorations and a few last minute gifts that Gregory had suggested, along with food and cake, Mycroft headed home. It had taken him a few hours to put everything together, making sure nothing was out of place, and even wrapping the gifts when he heard the door open. 

            “My, I’m home,” 

            “Welcome home love, I’m in the living room,” Setting down the last candle, Mycroft stepped back, smiling as he looked at his handy work. “The only thing left really is to prepare the food. I bought everything you asked for,” Leaning in, Mycroft placed a soft kiss on the man’s cheek. 

            “Love, they’re quite literally your oldest friends. Not everything has to be perfect,” Rolling his eyes, Mycroft followed after the other, moving into the kitchen and smiling as the man settled in and started making the dishes. “I’m pretty sure he’s going to be spoiled rotten as soon as he’s born,” Gregory laughed, adding his own last minute gift to the pile before following him and starting to make the bruschetta and garlic shrimp, along with a salad and steak and potato bites. “How was your day?” 

            “It’s better now that you’re home,” Mycroft murmured, walking up behind the other and wrapping his arms around the man’s waist, kissing his neck and sighing, happy and content. Honestly, he was a bit on edge that Anthea would be gone, though he knew she would be okay. It was the first time they would really be separated for a long while in centuries, and he knew that she was the glue that held a lot of his life together. At least he had Gregory here, which made things easier to be away from his oldest friend. 

            “So, normal huh? You’re a big boy though, I know you’ll do fine at the office without your Mum around to make sure everything’s running on time for you,” Gregory teased. Letting out a gasp at the comment, Mycroft swat the other’s man’s arse before pulling away, moving to sit at the barstool and glare at him from a distance. 

           “She’s not my mother, far from it,” He sulked, taking a sip of some wine that he had poured for himself, pretending that he wasn’t as worried as he really was. 

           “I know you’re anxious about having Anthea away, love, but really, you’ll be fine. You have an entire support team. You’ve got this. It really is no different than going on maternity leave, and I’m sure she’ll come back to London sooner rather than later.”   
“I know she will be back, and that things will progress.” Mycroft was still a tad sore from thinking about having to work without her, getting through his day without his oldest friend there. The woman somehow managed to keep him sane at work, and someone who had been there for him since the beginning practically. Staring off at his glass, his fingers tracing the edge, his expression turned into a soft frown as he thought more about it. 

          “Love,” Gregory murmured, taking his hand and kissing his knuckles, placing it on his heart. “My, I know you haven’t been away from Anthea for long, if ever, but she isn’t being taken from you. It’s not work separating the two of you, but the fact that she’s going to have a beautiful little boy that we’ll be able to be a part of raising as well. She just gets a head start on knowing him over us. Just like how we’ve been able to video chat when you’ve been away, I’m sure we’ll be able to do the same with her, and while I won’t be able to help you with work, I’ll still be here to listen and let you vent and offer new ways to punish people for being stupid. Once the little one is born, I’m sure we’ll be able to go up and visit as well.” 

          “I know. It’s just… a different feeling, knowing that I won’t see her everyday, or that I will have to wait to have her there again. The longest we have ever been away from each other is a week or so, but this could be a month, a couple months, who knows. It’s just strange as she has literally been there for centuries.” Mycroft sighed, leaning into the other as the man walked over to him. Gregory was right, this was only temporary, they could also video chat and visit after the baby was born, but it still felt hard to think about the upcoming move she was making. “I just worry she will find she likes the help from her parents, and decides to stay there, or move back with them, or purchase a home there.” It was just his anxiety talking, but it could be reality. Anthea had a high level of stress at work with weird hours, and of course he had been talking with her to cut that down, knowing she should spend time with the little one, but some mothers chose to never return to work, or at least until the little one was in school. 

          “I know love, but what else would Anthea do but work beside you? She loves it, she lives for it the same way you do. Maybe she will like the help from her parents with her new son, but she is insanely independent and I can’t imagine her wanting it forever. Look at her now, even with three men willing to bend over backwards for her, she’s still the one bossing us about and doing most everything on her own. Could you really imagine her living off in the quiet of the country for long?” 

          “People change when they have children, I have seen it time and time again, throughout the centuries,” Mycroft muttered, pulling back and look up at the other, giving that poor excuse for an argument, but all the fight leaving him. Gregory was right, she wouldn’t be happy in the country, and he doubted having a child would change that part of her that had been the same from the beginning. “I’m sorry, I just don’t like the idea, and I know it’s only temporary, but that doesn’t make me dislike it any less.” Standing, Mycroft pulled dishes out of the cupboards, setting them on the table before looking back at Gregory who was still standing at the island. 

          “I was going to say that I love you more than anything in the world, in German, but I only know I love you and it goes downhill from there,” Gregory admitted, moving to wrap his arms around his waist again. “Ce sera bien, mon cœur. Il n'y a rien à craindre.”  _ It will be alright, my heart. There is nothing to be afraid of.  _ Gregory said gently in French, a hint of a smirk playing across his lips. “Avez-vous vraiment pensé que je n'ai pas remarqué comment vous aimez quand je parle français?”  _ Did you really think I didn’t notice how you love when I speak French?  _ Chuckling softly, Mycroft smiled as the man pulled him in close, that mischievous smirk always there. 

          “Je savais que vous étiez au courant, juste ne savais pas que vous l'utiliser contre moi,”  _ I knew that you were aware, just didn’t realise you would use it against me.  _ Mycroft responded in kind, a genuine grin on his face as he looked down at the other, pressing a kiss to the man’s lips, soft and chaste. “S'il vous plaît pardonnez-moi mon coeur, je sais qu'il n'y a rien à craindre. Parfois, mon propre esprit obtient le meilleur de moi.”  _ Please forgive me my heart, I know there’s nothing to fear. Sometimes my own mind get’s the better of me.  _ Placing another kiss on the man’s lips, his attention was drawn away when there was a ring at the front door, his eyes lighting up as he knew that would be Anthea and Ryan. “I promise, I will behave myself tonight,” He gave one last look to Gregory before walking to the front door, putting on a large smile as he opened it to them both, greeting them and hugging them tight as he invited them in. 

          “Look at you,” Gregory murmured as he joined them, kissing Anthea on the cheek and asking permission before running his hand over her belly. 

          “Yes, I’m the size of a whale, and you know you are always welcome my dear. I wouldn’t name you god-father of our son if I wouldn’t let you touch my stomach,” She chuckled, smiling as the man looked down so lovingly at her stomach. 

          “Still. Ryan, would you like a beer? I’ve got a few in the fridge you’re welcome to.” 

          “A beer sounds nice,” Ryan smiled, his hands slipping from Anthea’s lower back as he moved to the kitchen to grab one. 

          “You guys, the decorations looks stunning, and of course, I can smell the food!” Anthea walked towards the kitchen, grabbing two or three pieces before she realised everyone was looking to her. “I’m eating for two, all of you leave me alone.”

          “None of us are judging you love, just hoping to get some too,” Ryan teased, dropping a kiss on her shoulders before grabbing the plates and helping move everyone to the lounge. 

          “Sorry I’m feeding both your loving wife and child,” Anthea snipped, giving them all a playful grin. Once they had all settled in, Anthea smiled over to them, Ryan sitting close, his hand on her stomach. 

          “Did you two ever decide on a name?” Gregory asked as he sat on the arm of the chair Mycroft had taken for himself, periodically brushing his hand along his shoulder or neck. “Once you have him and you’re up for guests, I’m sure Mycroft will quite literally teleport over to see you all. I’ll take the far more mundane route of driving down.” 

          “Really, must you embarrass me like that? Anthea already knows that I will be desperate to see her again, you don’t have to announce it do you?” Gregory chuckled, leaning in to kiss his forehead. 

          “You had three different colour schemes and blueprints drawn up for their nursery by the end of the first week that we knew… It’s known that you’re excited. My point still stands that we’re both excited to meet the little one once he’s born, and we’ll all be waiting not so patiently to come see him. Now, his name?”

          “Miles Tate. So I guess, full name would be Miles Tate Davis,” She shook her shoulders, a large smile spreading across her lips. Miles Tate Davis, that name certainly did have a nice ring to it. Mycroft took a bite of food, wiping his mouth and smiling as Anthea giggled, practically giddy with joy. 

          “That is a very lovely name my dear.” 

          “Thank you. We’ll be happy to show him off when you both come, and I’ll be happy to get him off my bladder. Help me up, I have to pee,” Anthea complained, the men stifling their laughter after she gave them a look that could rival his own. Once she was out of the room, Gregory and Ryan broke out into laughter again, the D.I slipping slightly more into the seat with him. 

          “So, how do you go about telling someone they’re immortal? Do you raise them knowing or have a sit down chat with them? There’s so many things you don’t even think about with these sorts of things.” When the question was posted, Mycroft paused, thinking back to his childhood. Ryan of course was looking to him as well, seeing as he wasn’t born immortal and this was their first child. 

          “Well, I guess it is different per household, but my parents didn’t tell us until a tad later. It’s easy to keep it from your children, that you don’t age, but it’s harder for children to keep that sort of secret from their friends, or even strangers. Most families, I would assume, wait until the child is old enough to understand, and able to realise the implications of what would happen should they tell anyone.” Mycroft frowned, looking off into the distance, his memories a little fuzzy from when his parents had that conversation with him. “There’s also the chance, depending on the situation, that the child will not be immortal. The only way to tell is time. Eventually, they will stop aging, or they will keep on. Some say they felt a difference when it stopped, others said they didn’t know till years later and just guess at their stopping age.” Mycroft shrugged, looking back up to Ryan and Gregory. “I’m sorry that wasn’t very helpful.” 

          “There’s really not a test you can do for that? I mean, I doubt you could do a blood test or what have you, but you can’t like… I don’t know, prick their heel and see if it’s gone the next day with the whole, ‘faster healing’ thing?” Gregory asked, glancing between Ryan and himself. Mycroft could see the worry seep into Ryan’s features, and realised what he had just said and wanted to instantly take it all back. 

          “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you with Miles, Ryan. You and Anthea have nothing to worry about. The chances of your child not being immortal are very slim. She is still under two thousand, and you are immortal now, that’s good. Those special situations were if one parent wasn’t immortal, or like myself, you are past your prime.” The answer was a hard one to choke out, but he didn’t want to worry Ryan, that had not been his intention. “As far as a test, you could always try, but not all children exhibit those qualities until after they have hit their stopping point. Some will, but not all.” Mycroft gave Gregory’s hand a soft squeeze, hoping that he had at least eased Ryan’s mind. 

          “Oh,” Gregory murmured, Ryan’s features quickly shifting from concern to relief, then towards pity as he knew how much they both wanted a family as well. “Excuse me, I need another beer,” The man stood up off his lap and retreated to the kitchen, leaving both Mycroft and Ryan a tad stunned. 

*****

          Anthea walked back from the bathroom, feeling a bit of relief now that the baby wasn’t pressed up against a full bladder. Entering the room, she could practically feel the tension, looking to the two men and frowning when she noticed Gregory was gone. 

          “I leave you all alone for five minutes, what happened?” She questioned, looking over to her husband. 

          “Gregory asked about immortal children, and…” Mycroft choken out, looking a tad solum as he looked up to her, Ryan giving her the same small frown and shrugging. Her heart ached as she looked back to the doorway where Gregory had walked out. Instead of staying and waiting for him to come back, she left the other two alone and went to search for him, finding him in the kitchen getting food and packing away some of the other bits. 

          “Gregory, darling,” She called in a soft voice, walking up to him and pressing into his side, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and rubbing. She didn’t know how he was handling it, but she had heard enough from Mycroft to know that it was a hard subject for the both of them. “I’m so sorry my dear,” 

          “I don’t know what to do.” Gregory admitted softly, his voice tight and hardly above a whisper. “I just… Christ,” 

          “No, love, shh,” She cooed, trying to comfort him as she ran her hands over his back, holding him tight as he folded into her. When he pulled back, she reached up, brushing away a few stray tears from his cheeks, a tender smile on her lips as she tried to reassure him. 

          “I’m happy for you. I’m so fucking happy for you and Ryan and I can’t wait to meet Miles, but if I could just fucking remember already, you know? I could give this to My too, but I can’t and now I find out we won’t even know if we are ever able to have a kid that stays until it’s too late… it’s selfish, yeah? To keep drawing Mycroft through all this? I don’t...fuck, I’m sorry. This is supposed to be for you and your family, not about me. I’m sorry.”

          “Gregory, dearest, there is nothing you can do, this is not your fault, and Mycroft in no way blames you for any of this. I know it’s hard for you both, and it’s hard to watch you both struggle through this. I wish I could help make you feel better,” Anthea pulled him in for another hug, closing her eyes as she tried not to cry as well, damn the pregnancy hormones to hell. “You’ve been so strong, for both you and Mycroft, it’s alright it you lost your resolve. Don’t worry about Ryan and I, we know that you both are there for us, and happy for us, and I’m sorry this has happened to you. Look, both of us have talked about this, and I haven’t told either you or My, so maybe we should go back in there, yeah?” She looked back to him, hoping that this news would take some of their worries away. 

          “Thank you,” He simply offered, gently cradling her belly in his hand for a moment. “Christ, he’s really driven his little skull into your bladder, hasn’t he? It’ll be luck if you get back to your parents in time to have him, he’s pretty ready to go himself.” She knew this was the right decision, to tell them now, especially as she watched Gregory move his hands to her stomach, a shaky smile playing on his lips. 

          “Yeah, and I think I’m just as ready to have him out,” Anthea gave a soft laugh, leaning in to press a kiss to the man’s cheek as she held his hand and they walked back out to the others. Moving over to Ryan, she leaned in, making sure she spoke soft enough that the others wouldn’t hear. “Dear, I think we should tell them now. I know we had wanted to wait, but I feel like it’s the right time now,” Pulling back, she looked into his eyes, saw that smile and her heart fluttered, so overwhelmed with love for her husband. “Thank you,” She whispered, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips, the baby moving ever so slightly as she did.

          “Always love,” Taking a seat, Anthea looked to Gregory and Mycroft, a soft smile on her lips. “We were going to wait and tell you both later, but I think today is right.” She started, her hand moving to her stomach as she rubbed, the other holding Ryan’s. 

          “We know you’ll love Miles as your own, but we also know you want your own family as well. So, once you’re ready for that, we’d like to be your surrogate.” Ryan finished, looking over at the others. 

          “I have been in contact with a geneticist at Baskerville, and she is able to help combat the age deterioration by using my egg, and  _ both  _ of your sperm, so it significantly reduces the risk, and the baby would be both of yours. Granted, she doesn’t know about the immortality, but we explained it to her as if it were just mortal parents worried about normal defects.” She added softly, looking between the men and waiting for their reaction. 

          “My dear, this is more than I could ever ask for, thank you,” Anthea shed a few tears of happiness as Mycroft pulled her into a tight hug, kissing his temple before he pulled away, a grin spreading across her features.”Thank you as well,” Mycroft moved, pulling Ryan into a tight hug as well. 

          “Dammit My, you’re not supposed to cry too,” Anthea let out a choked laugh as she saw Ryan’s face and heard Gregory scolding Mycroft for crying, she wiped away her own tears from her cheeks, sniffing a little before looking back at them both. “God, thank you, both of you. We will never be able to say that enough. I’ve really got to meet these people at Baskerville one day, they sound brilliant.” 

          “You two are our oldest friends, and it hurts to watch you go through this, and now that we have our own little one, we want to share that same joy with you both. It was an easy decision really, and we wouldn’t have it any other way,” Anthea stated, giving them both a curt nod as she reached out for Ryan and took his hand. She had been worried that when she first brought it up to Ryan, he would be hesitant, but he didn’t even skip a beat in agreeing to it. There was no doubt ever in her mind that he was her one true love, but that moment had just made her heart fill with adoration and spill over with love. Gregory pulled Mycroft into a tight hug, and there was something he whispered but she couldn’t hear it, though she had an idea of what it could be. Once everyone’s tears had dried and no one was on the edge of breaking again, Gregory cleared his throat and nodded towards the pile of gifts. 

          “There’s a few in there from Siger and Violet, and even one from Sherlock, though I’m not sure he wanted you to know. I think he still likes pretending that he doesn’t care though we all know that’s a lie.” Chuckling, Anthea smiled as she leaned over to grab a box off the pile, holding her stomach and wincing as the baby bumped somewhere sensitive. 

          “Dear, let me grab those for you,” Ryan quickly stood, moving to grab a few and set them on the table where they would be easier to reach. Tugging the paper, she opened the gift from Sherlock first, and it was a small stuffed bee. Anthea couldn’t help but laugh, shaking her head as she set it to the side. Reaching for Violet and Siger’s gifts, she opened them, her heart swelling as she read the sweet note from them before looking in the box and noting the onesies and books. 

          “Aw, your parents are too kind. We will have to send them a thank you card,” Anthea smiled to Mycroft, waiting a second and looking over her choices before picking up the gift that had Gregory’s hand writing on it. “Hm, wonder who this is from,” She teased, looking over to the man. 

          “Yes, my handwriting looks like a three year old’s compared to Mycroft’s,” Gregory rolled his eyes, looking over to her with a smile. “I’ll admit, this one was a last minute gift for him from my lunch break, but it’s adorable,” 

          “It is adorable,” She chuckled, pulling out the small, floppy, blue bunny and looking over to Ryan, the man laughing as she made it ‘hop’ over to him. “I love it, and I’m sure Miles will too, thank you.” They opened the rest of their gifts, some lavish such as pack and plays, bouncers and even a few Boba wraps, down to simple things like books, toys, bottles and binkies. “Thank you both so much, you are too sweet.” Anthea smiled after everything had been opened, sitting back in her chair and rubbing her stomach. They still had a long trip ahead of them, heading to her parents home, and she was ready to sleep. 

          “Think you can stay up just a little longer until you get into the car?” Ryan asked her softly, glancing towards Mycroft and Gregory. 

          “I’ll start loading the gifts in the boot,” Gregory volunteered, both boys moving and helping gather their things. 

          “I can try and stay awake,” She murmured, letting out a large yawn. As the boys worked on getting everything in the boot, she sat in the chair, nice and warm until Ryan helped her to her feet. Wrapping an arm around her waist, she walked with them all to the car, smiling as Gregory kissed her forehead. 

          “Text us when you get there, we can’t wait to finally, properly meet him,” 

          “I will be sure to let you know, or Ryan will, as I’m sure I will be passed out. The little one takes all of my energy.” Anthea chuckled, giving Mycroft a hug as well. “Love you My, and I will see you soon,” She whispered, placing a kiss on his cheek before getting into the car. 

*****

          Mycroft smiled sweetly as Anthea hugged him close, whispering his own goodbye’s and I love you’s before they both took off. Moving closer to Gregory, he wrapped his arm around the man and waved as the car rode off out of sight and they turned back to the house. He was tired, but so happy about their situation, more than he had been in a long time. As they turned back, Mycroft shut the door and let out a gasp as he was shoved up against the wall, moaning as he felt Gregory press between his legs and pepper kisses over his neck, running his hands down the silver fox’s back. 

          “It’s still our anniversary, you know. I don’t think you’ll be getting away from me that easily,” Gregory purred, continuing to shower him with affection. “One of these days, we’ll go on holiday and I’ll leave a mark for everyone to see,” 

          “Gods, Gregory,” His voice was rough as he let the man take control, loving when Gregory was domineering, and possessive. One hand ran up to card itself through those silver locks, tugging the man’s hair to tilt his head back and claim those lips, shivering as he felt the other take over, licking, tasting and teasing, completely devouring him as he melted to the touch. 

          “Spare room or the sofa? I don’t think I can make it up the stairs now,” 

          “Spare room,” His answer was quick, not wanting to break away from the other more than he had to, but knowing that if they chose the sofa, both would be extra sore in the morning. Moving with the other, Mycroft snuck a few passes as they made their way to the bedroom, stripping their clothes as they went and leaving a trail behind them. There was a surge of emotion running through him as he stopped and saw the man in front of him, completely naked and looking at him with such desire. Not only was it their third anniversary, but the raw emotion from the day, and knowing that they could have a family together, made this moment more than just a look before a shag. 

          “Gods, Gregory. I love you my heart,” Crossing the gap between them, he reached out and brought the man to him, pressing a desperate kiss to his lips. 

          “I love you too, my darling,” Gregory whispered, moaning into the kiss. “I love you, I love you so much, My. I just… I can’t,” Gregory said with a soft laugh as Mycroft moved them back, pressing him against the bed and having him fall back so he could climb on top. “I love you.” As Gregory moved up, he lay between the man’s legs, grinding his hips down with a growl and moving to kiss along the man’s jaw and neck, desperate to feel the other against him. 

          “Don’t say the word can’t under this roof, do you understand?” Mycroft hissed, sucking on the rather sensitive skin on the man’s neck, leaving a dark mark after a few moments and moving down the man’s collar bone. Running his hands down the man’s body, he loved the feel of Gregory shivering under his touch and writhing for more. 

          “I need you, My. I always need you, but more so now,” Gregory begged, Mycroft watching as the man brought his own hand up and sucked his fingers into his mouth. Feeling that tongue wrapped around his digits, lit a fire in his eyes. 

          “I will give you what you want my dear, but I need you to wait right here. Move, and there will be consequences,” Mycroft warned, looking down at the other and making sure he understood before standing and walking away, needing to grab a few things from their bedroom. When he returned, he had the handcuffs, a necktie and lube, all hidden behind his back. Gregory was right where he had left him. Smiling, he stopped at the edge of the bed. “Move up to the headboard, and close your eyes.” Daring the other to challenge him, Mycroft waited, on brow raised in question. The man did scramble to sit where he was told, and he had intended to save the tie for later, but Gregory had decided to test him early on. 

          “God, you’re hot when you are like this,” Moving closer to the other, Mycroft quickly reached up and cuffed Gregory’s hands to the slate, quickly switching to bundle the tie up and shove it in his lovers mouth, making sure he was properly gagged. 

          “Try and challenge me and you will face the consequences,” With that, Mycroft turned the man on his side and laid a good smack on the man’s arse, rubbing his hands over the tender flesh before repeating the action. “Now, Gregory, just nod, will you be a good boy and behave?” He questioned once before laying another smack on the man’s arse. Gregory quickly nodded, his eyes blown wide with want and moaning as his hand landed against the skin. When Mycroft noted the man was tugging on his cuffs, he laid another smack on the man’s arse before flipping him over and leaning down to take the man’s nipple between his teeth, nibbling hard on the flesh. “I said to behave, not to test,” There was a thrill as the man arched up under his touch, the moans muffled as they came through the tie, Gregory panting and bucking up underneath him. Moving over, he paid the same attention to the other bud, his hand reaching down and scrapping his nails over the man’s stomach, going close to Gregory’s aching prick but never touching. “You are rather delicious like this Gregory, wanton and desperate. How long can you hold out though? All those times of threatening me with cuffing and gagging me, and now you’re there. Never test me love,” He chuckled, pulling back and landing another smack on the man’s arse. There was a muffled grunt through the tie, and Mycroft couldn’t help but chuckle. Leaning down, Mycroft lapped his tongue across the abused flesh, testing and teasing along the man’s arse, never getting close to his cleft, and even adding a few nips and bites as the man jumped away. Reaching over to the side drawer, his attention went to the small container of ear plugs he found, his lips twisting into a devious smile as his plan changed a tad. Pulling them out and setting them on the table, Mycroft flipped Gregory back on his back and pulled out the tie, unraveling it and looking down at the other. “Don’t speak unless asked to, am I clear?” He questioned, waiting for the other to answer before moving and wrapping the tie around his eyes, blindfolding the man and then reaching for the small box. 

           “Y-yes, Sir,” Gregory breathed, staying still even as he lost his sight. Taking out the earplugs, Mycroft scrunched them up and inserted them into the other’s ears, making sure the man couldn’t hear much of anything. 

          “There, now let’s have some fun, shall we?” Leaning in rather close, but not touching the other, Mycroft made sure the other could hear him, speaking louder than normal and more clear. “You do remember the safe word, love. Just say it out loud, nothing else, so I know you do.” Pulling back, he waited for Gregory to tell him, a smile curling on his features.

          “Miel,” 

          “Very good,” He chuckled, knowing the other wouldn’t be able to hear him. Standing closer to the head board, Mycroft reached around and grabbed the man’s hair, pulling roughly so that Gregory's neck was exposed. He ran his tongue from the man’s collar bone up to his lips, pulling back before the other could react, his hand still holding the man’s head back. Chuckling darkly at the moan that slipped from the man’s throat, Mycroft leaned in, biting a little harder than usual on Gregory’s skin, going along his shoulder to the crux of his neck, sucking a rather dark mark there before moving and biting down on his collar bone. The cries and whimpers that the man was giving him only fed his desire and kept him going. After a moment he released the other’s hair, stepping back and thinking on how he would continue. Looking about the room, Mycroft searched for something he could use, finding a feathered quill that was in a display case, and getting a rather devious idea. Without warning, he trailed the feather along the inside of the man’s thighs, ghosting over the skin and stopping before he reached Gregory’s groin, starting over again on the other side. Mycroft watched as the man moved his legs, spreading them a little wider, desperate for something more. When he did move, he stopped the feather, holding it in place until Gregory was still once more. He knew that the man couldn’t hear him, so he couldn’t scold him, and stopping his ministrations was the next best thing. Finally, when Gregory was practically whimpering, Mycroft set the quill back down on the night stand and moved to his knees, careful not to put any weight on the bed and taking a deep breathing before making a quick move to grab the man’s prick and swallowed it down in one movement, humming around the base as his nose tickled the hairs on the man’s groin. 

          “Mycroft,” Gregory cried, begging and bucking up against his mouth. Pulling completely off, Mycroft back away, releasing the man’s prick and taking back his hand. He had said no speak, and the man was bucking up against him, also against the rules. He watched as Gregory whimpered and realised what was happening, waiting a good amount of time before turning him over quickly and landing another smack across his arse, pulling his hair back rough and leaning in to nip at his ear. 

          “I said behave, Gregory. This is not behaving.” He growled, biting again at the other’s neck and letting go, taking a step back as the man fell onto his back once more. Mycroft could read the emotions across the other’s face as he fought for self control, a smile twisting on his lips. Instead of continuing where he had left off, Mycroft moved and turned the man on his side, lapping at the abused skin, biting and licking over the delicious sheen the man had built up, wanting to keep him guessing. His hands brushed against Gregory’s cleft, giving him a little bit of what he wanted, but not a lot. Taking just his hands away, Mycroft reached for the tube of lube, coating his fingers as he continued to kiss the other, moving down his legs and over to his inner thigh, settling between the man’s knees. Lining up just right, Mycroft took down Gregory’s prick once more to the back of his throat, swallowing around the man’s weeping cock at the same time that he inserted two fingers into the man’s devilishly hot hole, curling his fingers around and brushing lightly against that sweet spot. The man falling apart with just a few touches and the use of his tongue made him moan deep around the man’s prick. Hearing Gregory swallow back the cries and words he was about to voice also sent fire to his groin. Humming, Mycroft continued to brush lightly against the man’s sweet spot. 

          “Wait… My, love, just…” Gregory gasped, tugging at his cuffs. When he heard  _ that  _ tone, a pleading, but not for more, rather a desperate cry for him to stop, Mycroft pulled off instantly. He quickly moved and took off the blindfold and took out the earplugs, a look of concern across his features as he tried to read his lover. Gregory hadn’t used the safe word, but he would be an idiot not to know that tone was desperate and overwhelmed. 

          “I’m sorry love, I didn’t mean to push you too far, do you want to stop?” He questioned, running a hand over the man’s forehead, looking down into those deep brown eyes. 

          “I just need to… slow some. It’s a lot.” Gregory said with a weak laugh, leaning into his touch. “I’ve always wanted this, just… didn’t think it was going to be this overwhelming.” Gregory smiled up to him, moving up to ask for a kiss. It would be the wrong thing to do if he just went right back to where they had left off, realising now that Gregory just wasn’t ready for that. Instead, Mycroft leaned down and kissed the man’s forehead, smiling as he pulled back. “Alright, I can… I can do this now. Thank you, I love you.” 

          “I love you my heart,” Placing the earplugs on the table along with the tie, Mycroft left the man cuffed, but let him keep the other senses. Maybe eventually they could work up to more intense things, but for now, he was happy just like this. “The rule still stands, no talking or testing. You can make noises, but no other words than the safe word. Am I understood?” Standing, he waited till the other nodded his head before leaning down again, taking the man’s prick in his mouth and bobbing his head, wanting to get the other heated back up again before pressing his fingers back in, to brush against that sweet spot. Smiling around the other’s cock as he watched the man close his eyes and swallow back his pleas, Mycroft keeping him just there, just on edge for as long as he wanted. It didn’t take much for him to progress to three, then four fingers, lightly skirting across Gregory’s prostate, making the man whimper, groan and shiver from his movements. Pulling back after what must have seemed like ages for the man, Mycroft gave a wicked grin down to his silver fox. “Now, I think it’s time that you pull your own weight here. I need you to flip yourself over, and pull yourself up to your knees. You are going to let me sit back and enjoy myself while you ride my cock,” Moving off the bed and standing to the side, he watched as Gregory did as he was asked, smiling as he looked to his partner. Stepping in closer, he laid another good smack on the man’s arse before rubbing the skin and slipping under Gregory’s arms, laying out and helping him straddle his waist. “Now, you aren’t to go too fast, am I clear? You are not allowed to come until I say, and if you disobey, there will be consequences,” Mycroft took his prick in his hand, pumping it a few times and running it along Gregory’s cleft. 

          Gregory nodded and slowly lowered himself down, sinking to the base and encasing him in heat. 

          “God, Gregory,” Mycroft moaned, his eyes fluttering shut as he felt the man slide down his length, the heat enveloping him inch by inch. His hands settled on the man’s hips, holding him down on his lap for just a moment, relishing in the sensation, before loosening his grip to allow his lover to do more. Gregory did as he asked, riding him slowly and never letting himself go over, but he was the one starting to lose control now. After a few agonising stops, Mycroft leaned up, wrapping his arms around Gregory’s waist, nibbling at the man’s shoulder and neck, biting down as he stopped the man and took over. “You’ve been so good my sweet, now tell me, why should I let you come?” He questioned, biting the man’s ear as he ground up against him. 

          “I want to be good, love. So good for you, you make me feel so good.” Gregory murmured, his voice soft as he nuzzled into Mycroft’s neck. Mycroft licked and teased at the skin on Gregory’s neck, humming as he moved, holding the other up so that he had space to snap his hips up. 

          “You have been good darling, so good,” He purred, spreading the man’s cheeks apart with his fingers and angling just right so he grazed across the man’s prostate with every thrust. 

          “Please… please, My… god…” When he heard the other cry, Mycroft pulled a hand away for a second to land a smack on his arse before gripping his thighs once more to hold him in place. 

          “I asked you a question, but did not state you could talk once more beyond answering it. Do you want me to stop? Just nod or shake your head. No words,” Mycroft pulled back, just enough that he could see his lover's face, looking deep into those chocolate eyes. Gregory quickly shook his head, his eyes heavy as he panted through the snapping of Mycroft’s hips. “Good my pet,” He purred, moving fast, his own orgasm building and just as he knew he would tip, he reached between them and wrapped a hand around Gregory’s neglected prick, looking to him with eyes dark with lust. “Come Gregory, come for me now.” He growled, smirking at the shiver that ran through his lover. It didn’t take long for him to listen, Gregory’s cries filling the room and those beautiful muscles fluttering around him, his thrust growing more and more erratic as he worked him through the orgasm. When Mycroft knew Gregory was completely spent, his hand left the man and went back to his thighs, holding him up and pounding into him with little resolve until he was crying out, thrusting in and stalling as he let his orgasm spill over him. He could feel Gregory collapse against him, Mycroft panting as he held the man through the end of his own pleasure, looking back up and smiling. 

          “Thank you,” 

          “No my dearest, thank you,” Mycroft smiled, leaning forward as he kissed the man gently before reaching into the drawer for the keys to the cuffs. As soon as he had freed his lover, they gingerly pulled apart and lay next to one another, still trying to come down from their high. “I’m sorry I pushed you too far, too fast. I am glad you stopped me,” Leaning over, Mycroft wrapped a possessive arm around Gregory, kissing the top of the man’s head. “Though I could see that you enjoyed a bit of rough play,” A soft chuckled rumbled through his chest as he closed his eyes. 

          “Next time,” Gregory said with a faint smile, looking absolutely sated and blissed. “Goodnight, dear,” 

          “Goodnight my heart,” Mycroft murmured, both of them easily slipping into a deep sleep. 

  
  



	30. XXIX

          It was almost a month later, at a scene where Sherlock and Anderson were nearly yelling at one another over a debate on if it was a triple homicide or a double and a suicide, and Sherlock in the middle of a rather elaborate explanation of just how impossible it would be for someone to shoot themselves from five - no, four and a half - feet away, that Greg’s phone chirped with a text. 

          “Don’t grin like that at a murder scene, it’s creepy,” Donovan smirked beside him, Greg sticking his tongue out at his Sergeant as he looked up between the two men who were still glaring down at each other. 

          “Sherlock’s right. The exit wound is always larger, he got shot from the back. Look at my godson,” Greg beamed, Anderson rolling his eyes and sulking away while Sherlock raised an eyebrow before looking back at the body in front of them, leaving Donovan and a few other officers to laugh before crowding around to see the photo of the newborn on the screen. 

          “It’s an infant, they all look the same.” Sherlock pointed out, pacing around the scene as Greg laughed again. 

          “Come here and looked at your god-nephew,” 

          “That’s not a thing,” 

          “Whatever, they’re both healthy, if you’re wondering.” Greg called out, Sherlock pausing just long enough to give a tiny nod before getting back to work. The D.I shook his head in amusement before stepping to the side and ringing Mycroft. No doubt he’d be heading over as soon as possible to go visit Miles. 

          “Lestrade, I think the crime scene is more important than a baby that looks like every other newborn. That is, unless you wish to figure this out on your own.” Sherlock shouted, but Greg continued to look at the picture with the other officers. “Fine. Bored. I’m going home.” Greg sighed as he put his mobile away, sending a quick text to the new family with his congratulations before turning his attention back to Sherlock. 

          “I promise you, not all newborns look the same. Some look like gross little raisins. Now please, tell me what you’ve got before you go off again?” He asked, a bit surprised that Sherlock was so aloof towards the idea of Anthea’s new baby, but deciding to bring it up with Mycroft later. It could have been something simple as Sherlock just being Sherlock, but if it wasn’t, Greg definitely didn’t want to start that kind of sulk. “Triple homicide, did a piss poor job of covering it, or didn’t mean to from the start and it gave them a lucky break? Who are we looking for?” He asked, hoping that Sherlock would continue to help them, since the main suspects they would have looked to for each person’s murder was lying dead next to one another. 

          “Yes, well I believe they all look like ‘gross little raisins’,” Sherlock scoffed, his face pulled into a frown. “Double homicide - suicide actually. These two were having an affair, the third knew about it and confronted them, ending up shooting this victim here,” Sherlock gestured to the bodies. “So this one was distraught that their lover was shot, killed the shooter, and then committed suicide. Now, may I leave? I have important business to attend to at Barts, Molly has brought me another corpse.” Greg frowned in confusion as he followed along with Sherlock’s explanation, shaking his head when he tried to play it out in his head and simply couldn’t. 

          “You were just explaining the physics on how that’s impossible,” Greg argued, narrowing his eyes in frustration before his mobile started to ring. “Fine, Go. Be nice to her!” He called after Sherlock who was nearly running away at this point, signalling to his team to finish the scene with a wave of his hand as he answered the call without looking at the name on the screen. “Oh, hey, My.” 

          “I’m sorry dearest, I was on the phone with Ryan, I didn’t mean to miss your call. I’m guessing you have seen the picture?” 

          “Yeah, I did. I’m on a scene so it was probably for the best that you didn’t pick up, because Sherlock was here and being very Sherlock over the whole thing.” He said with a faint laugh, though still clearly annoyed with the man both over his attitude about Miles’ birth and directly contradicting himself about the murders. 

          “Ah yes. Sherlock has never been fond of children, saying that they are completely useless until they reach the age of asking questions. Sounds very much like himself.” 

          “Anyway, the team sends their congrats to everyone, and I’ll probably call Ryan to see how everyone’s doing at my lunch break. Poor Anthea looked exhausted, but Miles looked healthy.” Greg said with a smirk, hovering along the edge of the murder and still trying to figure out just how Sherlock had gone from lecturing them about the impossible murder-suicide, to agreeing that was exactly what it was, even if they did have their victims switched around. 

          “Yes, they are doing quite well, and hopefully within the next few days, we can pack up and head to see them. I do hope that you have time you can take off, yes?” 

          “I can trade a day or two off, I’m sure. I’ve only been telling anyone who’ll listen to me about Miles,” Greg laughed, murmuring for Mycroft to hold on when his phone chimed with a text. 

> **_You passed the test. Congratulations, you’re not a complete idiot. Triple homicide, one of the killers is still on the loose, one of the victims was his partner. I’m sure you can figure out the rest. - S_ **

          Reading it with a heavy sigh, the D.I simply glared off where he had last seen Sherlock before tucking his mobile against his shoulder and kneeling down to examine the bodies one last time before they were taken away. 

          “One more question, then I’ve got to get back to work, and I’m sure you do too. If I were to kill your brother, how well could you hide the body for me,” He asked, laughing after a beat and running his hand through his hair. 

          “If you were to kill Sherlock, I think my bigger question was how you managed to do it. Sorry he is being such a twit today, he doesn’t tend to take well to others paying attention to things he deems unimportant, especially when he is trying to be clever. That’s probably why he was testing you with the crime scene. You can solve it, and prove him wrong. I know you can. I will let you know what the plans are when I hear from the happy parents. I love you my heart.” 

          “Alright, love. Once you’ve figured out when we can go, let me know and I’ll be sure to get the time off. I’ll see you tonight.” Greg spoke softly, hauling himself back up and heading back to the office so he could get this case sorted out for good, both to prove to Sherlock he wasn’t an idiot like he loved to say, and so he could be sure to have the time off to visit Anthea and Ryan with their new son. 

          It wasn’t until much later that Greg arrived home, smiling to himself when he saw Mycroft relaxing with a drink on the sofa in front of the fire. 

         “Hey,” He greeted as he leaned over the back, kissing the man’s forehead as he ran his hands down Mycroft’s chest. “I really don’t understand your brother. Have I ever? Ever ever, I mean,” Greg asked with a chuckle, being lazy and reaching out for the man’s drink to steal a sip before rounding the side of the sofa to drop down comfortably on the cushions. Kicking his shoes off and rolling up his sleeves to make himself comfortable. “I agreed with him on a case and then he makes up some lie likes it’s the opposite. Whoever his John is, must have the patience of a saint. Or just deal with his shit like I do.” Greg laughed, sighing as he pulled his mobile out and opened the picture of Anthea and Miles with a grin. “God, look at him, My. I’m assuming you’ve talked with them already. How’s everyone?” 

          “No one has ever really understood Sherlock, and there are times when John is a bit foggy, but he does have a lot of patience as well as Sherlock is a tad more… decent when he is around. The man has a way with Sherlock, and it’s unlock anything I’ve ever seen. A blessing really. I did speak with them, Anthea actually called. They are doing well, and said once we’ve eaten and settled in, we can call them for a video chat.” Greg smiled at how relaxed Mycroft was on the sofa, letting the man pull him to his side and closing his eyes as well. 

          “That’ll be great.” He murmured, taking the man’s free hand into his and kissing his knuckles lightly. “I’m assuming you had a good day, seeing how relaxed you are for once. You certainly deserve it.” And god how glad Greg was to see Mycroft look so content after working all day, especially after how anxious he had been and how he had worked himself up waiting for Anthea’s labour to start.

          “It was good once I had news from Anthea, otherwise most of it was spent pacing my office.” 

          “The team laughed over how excited I was with that picture Anthea sent us. They all think he’s adorable, even if Sherlock got jealous for not being the center of attention.” Greg shook his head in amusement, laying back onto Mycroft’s chest and relaxing even more. “What do you want for dinner tonight? I haven’t even thought about it to be honest, half tempted to just do something fast, like eggs.” 

          “Yes, well I can only imagine how excited you were, and like I said, Sherlock doesn’t like other’s paying attention to what he doesn’t see as important. I’m fine with something easy. I’m actually not all that hungry,”

          “That means you were either snacking all day long, or you haven’t eaten anything today. Either way, you need to eat something for dinner or you’ll feel sick. I’ll make some eggs and roasted tomatoes for dinner, that’ll be quick and easy. Come on,” He said with a chuckle as he stood, taking Mycroft’s drink into one hand and offering the other to help the man up, taking a sip with a grin before leading the way to the kitchen and pouring himself his own glass of scotch.  

          “I will never be able to get away with a small, white lie with you, will I Gregory?” Mycroft grinned, following him into the kitchen and taking a seat on the stool. “You seem to be in a really good mood. Do you have baby fever, my heart?” Greg smirked when Mycroft asked if he would ever get away with a white lie, shrugging slightly before moving around to get their dinner taken care of. He had no doubt that if Mycroft really wanted to get away with something he could quite easily do so, but there was also the feeling that the politician don’t want to get away with his little lies. Adding some herbs to the eggs while they set in the pan, the D.I laughed when asked if he had baby fever. 

          “Only a little, but you can’t say you haven’t had it this entire time too,” He shot back, finishing the eggs and tomatoes at nearly the same time and setting their plates in front of Mycroft. “I’m happy. We’re godparents together, and that means a lot to the both of us.” 

          “I’m not denying that, love, just merely commenting on your lovely demeanour. This is delectable as always darling,” Mycroft took a biting, smiling to him as he tucked in as well. “We are godparents, and little Miles will be spoiled rotten,” 

          “I still say Sherlock will join in soon enough on Miles,” Greg said after a beat, sitting beside Mycroft and pressing their knees together as they ate in comfortable silence. He was always amazed at how easy it was to just spend time with one another, even in silence, when he felt he could never do the same with Caroline. 

          “Maybe once the child is older he might, but when they are that small, he finds them useless. You may be right though, maybe he will change his outlook for Miles,” They finished their meal, not sharing much more, and Greg smiled as he moved to clean the plates. 

          “You go and sort out the computer, see if they’re ready for us to call or not. I’ll finish the dishes here and join you in a minute.” Giving Mycroft a quick kiss on the lips, he smiled as the man moved to the other room. Everyone was happy, and he was glad that he was around to see Anthea and Ryan have their first child. He couldn’t imagine Mycroft being on his own for it. Of course he knew the man would have been happy no matter what, but he had seen the man’s face when they had first announced their pregnancy. He didn’t want to think about what it would have been like for Mycroft without him at his side. “So?” Greg asked as he rounded the sofa, sitting beside the other and shifting the computer screen just enough to they could both fit in the video feed. 

          “I just sent them a message, so whenever we get the call…” Mycroft was cut off by the ring on the computer, smiling as he looked over to him. “Guess I spoke too soon.” 

          “Oh, look at him!” Greg exclaimed the moment the video connected, all the restraint clearly having gone to Mycroft as the D.I shifted to lean towards the screen as if that would help him see the little infant better. “Hey there little man,” 

          “Good evening,” Mycroft chuckled, looking to Greg with a smile. “You all look well, hello Miles.” Greg blinked, glancing up at Anthea and Ryan as they laughed, quickly shifting back to sit beside Mycroft with a sheepish grin. 

          “Congrats, you two. We’re both so excited he’s finally here, though I’m sure you’re the most so, Anthea. How are you feeling?” 

          “And I thought I was supposed to be the emotional one here,” Mycroft teased, placing a hand on his thigh. 

          “We’re all doing good here, a tad tired, but happy. I think in the next few days we will even be up for visitors, but mummy and daddy need a bit of sleep.” Anthea was smiling, but there was a sense of exhaustion about her, eyes dropping and her speech low. “He was born almost half a stone! And about twenty two inches long.” Shifting her arms, Miles started to stir. “Looks like someone is waking for a few seconds just to say hi,” 

         “Big boy there,” Greg murmured, resting his hand on Mycroft’s against his leg, grinning as the woman lifted baby Miles up to show them as the little one blinked and stretched, still getting used to how big the world around him was now. “Christ, Anthea. He’s precious. Hey laddie, hi…” 

         “Gregory, I think we might have lost him,” Anthea’s voice was quiet, pointing towards Mycroft. Greg had always loved kids, more than happy to play with them at different office events, especially when they would have different parities at the parks, but this… well, Miles wasn’t  _ his,  _ but he was his godson, and for now that was good enough. Humming when Anthea mentioned Mycroft, Greg looked over at his partner before chuckling as he leaned over to kiss Mycroft’s cheek. 

          “Silly man,” He said with a gently smile, squeezing his hand in his. “Just wait until we actually get to hold him. He’s going to break us for good, I know it.” 

          “Y-Yes,” Mycroft stuttered, a blush spreading across his cheeks as he had been caught staring. “So I don’t mean to push, but I have to ask, when will we be able to come and hold the little one? And of course, see you both as well.” Ryan laughed as he leaned over to press a kiss to Anthea’s head, reaching over with a hand to take one of Miles’ in his own. 

          “One more day to rest up and sort ourselves out, then you can come over. Anne’s still pretty sore, obviously, but everyone’s healthy,” He said after a moment, looking over to his wife and smiling when she nodded in turn, shifting her son around as he began to fuss with a few tiny grunts. “It’ll be nice to see you all, and Anthea will be glad to see you in person too, Mycroft. No offense, Greg, but she’s a mum to him just as much as his own,” 

         “Just because we are very close friends and she has been there for me longer than anyone else, does not mean that she is my mother,” Mycroft rolled his eyes, looking to Anthea to back him up. “Really? Everyone here thinks that Anthea is a mother to me? Even you my dear? Well fine, I see how it is, thank you all.” Greg chuckled as he looked over at Mycroft as he play sulked, leaning over to kiss his cheek again. 

          "We love you,” He gently teased with a grin, rubbing his arm over the man’s shoulder before looking back at the screen and the family, Ryan caught up in the sight of his wife and son together. It was such a tender moment, Greg felt as though he was peering in on something private. Squeezing Mycroft hand as he leaned against the politician’s shoulder, he let out a soft sight. “We’re so happy for you, can wait to see you all soon.” 

          “Hm? Sorry dear, I’m afraid I didn’t catch that question,” Anthea sighed, her brows furrowing as everyone started to chuckle. 

          “I think it might be time to call it a night. Ryan, take care of her and the little one. Please message us with visiting details and we will chat soon,” Mycroft smiled as they said their goodnights. “Just a few more days, then we can take off, visit them, and meet the little one.” Greg knew he was smiling like an idiot as he leaned back against the couch, so ridiculously happy for Anthea and Ryan that he felt as though his chest could explode from such emotion. Christ, forget Sherlock, his own team would never let him live it down if they knew how much of a softie their boss was. 

          “We should make a few meals to bring over for them, too. That way they don’t have to worry about that as well. I know they’re still with Anthea’s mum, but it would certainly be a nice gift to give them,” He offered, giving Mycroft a feather light kiss to his lips. “I’m so happy for them, you know?” 

          “I will help with whatever prep work is needed,” Mycroft chuckled. “We both are my dear, and they know that. Now, we have the rest of tonight, what would you like to do. We can make them meals, but I’ll admit, I don’t feel like doing that now. How about you come up with a list of things you need, and I will have them bought and we can do that tomorrow?” Greg smirked as Mycroft ran his thumb along his cheek, knowing what was on his mind as he climbed into the man’s lap. 

          “Meal planning can definitely wait till tomorrow. Tonight… that can be for us. We’re certainly welcome to have our own celebration, don’t you think?” He purred, knowing full well that Mycroft wouldn’t complain about being slightly sidetracked for now. 

          “Yes, let’s celebrate,” 

 

          Ryan notified them the morning after Miles birth that they would be more than happy to have them visit the next day, accompanied with a new picture of the little boy for them to coo over. Making up a menu of Anthea’s favourite meals, along with a few of what she had craved the most while still pregnant. Greg made up a list of ingredients for one of Mycroft’s staff to get them, and before tea, he found himself and Mycroft easily moving around the kitchen with one another, making a few dishes to take over for their friends. 

          “Do you have a key to their flat? Maybe we could leave the other dishes for them, and just take one for them now. It would be a bit awkward bringing over seven dishes out of the blue.” Just then Mycroft’s mobile started ringing and he sighed as he saw the look on the man’s face. 

          “I’m sorry my dear, I will be in my office, apparently England is falling,” Letting his hand trail down the man’s arm, Mycroft stepped away and Greg went to finish everything with the dishes, figuring he would just set the other’s aside and they could drop them off, later. Making notes about what needed to be done to cook and finish the different dishes they had made, Greg cleaned up and did everything he could to buy them time for Mycroft to sort out his call before eventually giving in and heading over to Mycroft’s office. Chewing his lip, he heard the other’s voice, usually so gentle and warm with him, now so calculating and harsh. Greg kept out of sight as he tried to decide just what he should do, if he should go back to their bedroom and change, or go in and try and calm his partner down from what sounded like the edge of mass murder. 

          “This is not an emergency, and quiet honestly, not a department that I cover. Make it clear, that everyone involved will face the consequences for bothering me when I gave explicit orders not to. I will deal with you specifically when I return as you were the one who made the call to my personal mobile. Now, unless you have real business for which this call was made, I will be hanging up now and putting through the orders to have you all assigned to the worst imaginable positions under my domain immediately. You’re wasting my time!” Greg closed his eyes as he heard Mycroft’s voice only raise louder, feeling childish as he remembered the fights that he and Caroline would have, and even as a child, the fights his parents would get into. He knew this was different, obviously, but that didn’t change the fact that he was hearing the normally calm man, so loud and angry. It spooked him. Looking up at the ceiling and waiting for Mycroft to end his phone call, which was shortly followed by the sound of the phone being slammed down, Greg counted to five before letting himself into the room, eying his partner carefully as he slowly crossed over to his side. 

          “Bit not good?” 

          “Gregory, my love.” Mycroft stood, moving over to him and pulling him close. “I’m sorry, I never wanted you to hear me like that. I would never speak with you like that, or anyone I cared about.” 

          “You say that, but I’ve seen you that way with Sherlock before,” Greg said after a long moment, lifting his hands to rest on the man’s chest, not to push him away, but to hold onto him as he rest his head on the man’s shoulder. 

          “That was because Sherlock tried to come between us, on more than one occasion, and I do not take that lightly,” His voice was cold and calculating again, his features turning to a scowl. 

          “Just breathe, My. It’s okay. I understand you’re upset and stressed, but just promise you won’t assign whoever you just spoke with to Serbia or some other hellish place. We’re going to see Anthea and Ryan and Miles, so just… relax yeah? It’s going to be okay.” Greg murmured, still keeping his voice soft and low to try and bring Mycroft back down. 

          “I can’t promise they won’t get what is coming to them, but I promise I won’t assign them to Serbia.” 

          “Hey,” Greg muttered, looking up at Mycroft as he brushed his hand along his hair to try and calm him. “It’s going to be okay.” He murmured, trailing his hand along his cheek and down to his neck, trying to find something that could get him off this ledge, but knowing that none of it was really working. “My, look at me,” Greg whispered, frowning slightly when he saw how lost Mycroft was in his own thoughts, brushing his fingers along his cheek before reaching up to lightly kiss his lips. “I know you’re angry, but it’s not the end of the world. It was just a call from work, it’s okay.”   
“No, but it should have been the end of the world for them to call me, those were my instructions, and I had made them clear.” It didn’t take much longer with the brushes through his hair and soft kisses to bring Mycroft back, the man sighing as he closed his eyes. “I’m sorry love. It has been like this for the past month since Anthea has been gone, and I don’t understand how she handles all of these idiotic employees without losing her mind. She deserves another raise.” Greg chuckled as he finally felt Mycroft relax back against him, resting his chin on the man’s shoulder to keep him close as they both relaxed again into silence. 

          “I know you’ve been stressed. Welcome to everyone else’s lives,” He joked softly, pressing one last quick kiss to Mycroft’s nose before stepping back and smiling up at the other. “Come on, let’s go get changed and head out to see Miles, hm? Don’t worry about any of this, but I’m sure that Anthea wouldn’t argue against a raise because you think she deserves it.” They packed all of their belongings up in the car and stopped at Anthea and Ryan’s flat before heading out, leaving them a few meals in the freezer for later. Mycroft set the GPS and thanked him for driving, not that he minded at all, though he did wonder if the man could drive at all. Glancing over now and again to watch Mycroft drift away into his own mind, Greg simply shook his head as he relaxed into the comfortable silence in the car, humming to himself as they made their way to Anthea’s parents. Reaching out to gently squeeze Mycroft’s wrist when they were only a few minutes away from the house, he smiled as the man came to. “Come back around to me? We’re almost there, love.” 

          “I didn’t realise I would have been out for that long, I’m sorry I left you alone,” Mycroft apologised, rubbing a thumb over his hand. Greg shook his head when the man apologised, lifting his hand up to kiss it. 

          “It’s fine, My. Really. It’s how you decompress, I don’t mind.” He assured him, smiling over at the other before focusing on the road again, their GPS saying it was only a few more minutes before they arrived. 

          Ryan greeted them both as they came to the door, laughing softly at the large dish of food that Greg had brought with them. 

          “You didn’t have to, but thank you. I’m sure Anthea will be quite happy to have this. She’s just gone to change Miles, so they’ll be out in a moment. Would you all like anything to drink?” He offered, Greg smiling and quickly agreeing, hardly every one to turn down the offer of a beer. 

          “How’s it been, being a new dad?” 

          “Good. Great. Hardly any sleep, but you don’t really care that much. He’s so good, he doesn’t cry just to hear himself, he only cries when he needs something and he’ll stop right after.” Greg smiled up as Anthea came out to greet them, carefully returning her hug while staring down at the bundle in her arms. 

          “Hello boys, it’s so good to see you. Alright, no fighting, but which one of you would like to hold him first?” 

          “Hi buddy,” Greg cooed, a bit of colour coming to his cheeks when she teased them about fighting over the baby. He looked up at Mycroft, hesitant to take him first, though it wasn’t as if he wouldn’t allow Mycroft to hold him after. 

          “Gregory would love to have him first,” 

          “I… are you sure?” He asked his partner, seeing the nod and smiling back at Anthea as she carefully transferred her son into his arms. “Hey,” Greg murmured, mindful to hold his head before anyone could say anything, smiling down at the infant who was still blinking himself awake. “He’s so small,” he breathed after a minute, looking up when Anthea gave a bit of a sarcastic laugh, but her amusement was obvious as she relaxed against Ryan. “I mean… I’m sure he didn’t feel it and all, but… he’s perfect Anthea.” Greg said, glancing over at Mycroft to invite him closer as he carefully shifted his hold around Miles to prop him up a little more for the other to see. “He’s going to be the most protected, spoiled lad in the world, I’m sure of it. Look at him My,” He whispered, grinning at the baby yawning before he shuffled around to make himself more comfortable, having decided these new people weren’t so bad. Rubbing his thumb along Miles’ arm, Greg realised quickly that he could lose himself in the baby for the rest of the evening, but once quick glance over at Mycroft told him that was already a rather moot point. 

          “He’s perfect my dear, but what else could we expect from the both of you. Congratulations again.” Mycroft brushed a hand over the baby’s head, smiling down at the little one. “I’m afraid though, you may never see him again Anthea. Gregory might just make off with him. Ryan said that he is well behaved, sleeps and only cries when hungry, you both are very lucky.” 

          “We’re very lucky that he only cries when he needs something, but he’s still very needy.” Ryan joked, pulling a face when Anthea half elbowed him in the stomach. 

          “Not like you didn’t deserve that,” Greg laughed, grinning over at Mycroft who was so clearly enamored by little Miles. 

          “I’m sure he’s not quite as needy as you are, Ryan,” Mycroft teased, earning a few chuckled from all. 

          “You want to hold him?” Mycroft’s eyes went wide, his expression suddenly nervous as he looked to him. “You’ve got it,” Greg assure the man as he laid Miles down in the other’s arms, laughing softly at the tiny grunts of protest from the baby of being moved around. “Relax love, you’ve got his head, the rest of him is fine. They’re surprisingly resilient little buggers. They have a soft spot on their head, not a self destruct button,” He joked, gently guiding the politician to relax his hold around Miles and ignoring Ryan as he took a few pictures to show Anthea with a fond smile. “See? I’m sure you held Sherlock when he was little, too. I also realised that was forever ago, but it still stands. There is nothing to be worried about. Isn’t that right little one?” Greg cooed, laughing when Miles burped in response. “Not crying, so we’re good.” He grinned, leaning up to kiss Mycroft’s forehead. “Just don’t space out on us, deal?”  

          “Well it should be called a self destruct button, you damage that, and it’s all downhill from there,” Mycroft let out a nervous laugh, looking to everyone, his eyes still wide. “When I had held Sherlock, I was about twelve, and at the time, a baby was much bigger to me than they are now, as I was a lot smaller. I’ll try my best not to space out though. You’re just going to have to give your god-father a little bit to get used to this, but I still love you, Miles.” Mycroft looked down to the child. Greg shook his head in amusement, reaching out to rub his fingers along Miles’ cheek. 

          “It still isn’t a self destruct button. They don’t have an actual hole in their skull, just an area that the bone hasn’t fully hardened there.” He murmured, chuckling when the baby made a slight suckling motion with his lips before starting to doze off in Mycroft’s arms. “Touching their skull there won’t destroy anything. You just can’t palm their skull, not like that’s ever a good idea,” Greg explained, glancing up at Anthea who was giving him quite the stare down before trying to hide her laugh, telling Ryan to get her some tea. “He really is amazing, Anthea. Any time we’re able to, I’d be more than happy to watch over him for you.” 

          “He says watch him, but I’d be worried if I were you. He might not return him,” Mycroft teased back, looking to him with a playful grin. 

          “Sorry, my line of work sort of destroys my sense of humour,” Greg apologised softly, relaxing back with Mycroft as the man seemed more content that he wasn’t going to hurt the baby. Gently hushing the little one as he started to fuss with hungry, the D.I sat back as Anthea came over to retrieve her son, feeling a slight blush come to his cheeks as she quickly moved to nurse Miles in front of them. It was stupid that he even felt any sort of awkwardness over such a thing, having seen it plenty of times growing up and out in public, but… somehow it was different since he knew Anthea. “Do you think you’re going to switch him to a bottle later? Or will I get to have an excuse to visit Mycroft more at the office to sit for him while the two of you are off at meetings?” 

          “Eventually he’ll have to switch to a bottle, but I think for a while, when I go back to work, I will pump, and do a mix of formula and breast milk.” Anthea smiled, looking up to the other’s as she relaxed. “But don’t let that stop you from coming to the office and visiting. I won’t have Miles with me, but you can always stop in,” She chuckled, looking back down at her son. Greg chuckled as he shook his head, wishing desperately that he could just pop by to see them whenever he wanted to, knowing full well that his job never would be that kind to him. 

          “I’ll certainly try to do what I can to stop by more often,” He agreed, linking his hand with Mycroft’s and smiling over to him before resting his head on the man’s shoulder. He wanted all of this, desperately, but it was almost helpful to see the little bumps and struggles that Anthea and Ryan came across that they could learn from themselves. “I’m sure Mycroft’s parents would be more than happy to act as sitters. Though I’m sure that also goes for your own parents,” Greg offered, laughing softly at the glance he gained from his partner. “Oh, like they won’t find a way to claim little Miles as their own grandson by default from being your god-son.” 

          “I’m not saying they wouldn’t claim him as family, I’m just not so sure that having Miles over two hours away would sit well, nor would it be practical to do everyday. You do remember that my parents don’t live in London, right dear?” 

          “There are a couple people within the community that are in the surrounding area. They would be someone we put up, in a flat of our choosing, paid for by us, and who would work full time for us as well. It’s an immortal thing. There are those who dedicate their lives to raising immortal children, and being full time nannies. That is the one nice thing about this community. There may not be many of us, but most find their life profession, and travel to help others like us. There are doctors, nannies, and even politicians,” Anthea chuckled, smiling up to Mycroft. Greg hummed softly, nodding faintly as Anthea explained a little more about how the immortal community worked. He was still very much confused about a lot of it, but he figured it would all make sense when he was officially a part of it as well. Not like he expected a party with streamers and cake, but he was sure they would tell him certain things when he stuck around. 

          “That’s good though. My offer still stand, to watch over the little man whenever I have the chance,” 

          “Thank you my dear. That’s why we named you both god-parents. We knew that you would love him and want to care for him just as much as we do,” Anthea smiled, covering herself back up once Miles had finished eating, bringing him to lay on her shoulder to try and get a burp out of him. “I’m going to put him down for a little while, so that we can eat something,” Giving the baby a kiss on the head, Greg smiled as she took him off, and moved to hold Mycroft’s hand. 

          “He’s perfect,” He whispered to the politician, a smile on his face. If they already loved this one so very much, he couldn’t wait till they were holding their own little one. 


	31. XXX

           Greg cringed as he rubbed his eyes, trying to get rid of the headache that had been haunting him since he had gotten to his scene for the day. Nothing was going right at the surface, and his deja vu wasn’t helping anyone either. His team had arrived the evening before to a murder scene, though he had pulled them shortly after since the entire building had absolutely wreaked of petrol. While they had been waiting for explosives to come and clear the building, it had gone up in flames, leaving them the joys of trying to piece together what they could with what was left. 

          “Sherlock, stay close,” Greg called out almost instinctively, barely even looking to see if the detective was close to him or not before moving on to another room, the lingering smell of smoke not helping his nerves. “Christ, my head hurts,” He complained under his breath, not even sure anymore if the soft sound of crackling was imagined or not as he eyed the charred beams above him. There was a vague sense of dread washing over him as the taste of copper started to bloom along the back of his throat. He wasn’t entirely sure what happened next, but he was on his knees gasping for breath, the smell of smoke filling his nostrils and the crackling sound getting louder. Greg was lost in his mind, hardly even flinching when Sherlock yelled for someone to get help. The only reason why he didn’t collapse completely to the ground was because of Sherlock’s hold on his shoulder as Donovan rushed into the room, frowning at the two of them as she called over her radio for an ambulance. 

*****

**September 3, 1666**

          Mycroft was outraged, the fire had started just past midnight that morning, and yet the Mayor still hadn’t given a decision on start the firebreaks to stop it from spreading. It was their only means of effective firefighting at the time, but the man just wouldn’t give an answer. That was, not until very late Sunday night, when the wind had already fanned the flames into a firestorm and the firebreaks were useless. Having stayed up all night through till Monday, he had seen the fire spread to the heart of the city, and his anger grew with the flames, along with his worry for Gregory. He was an officer, and though they hadn’t been ordered to help, he knew his partner, and knew the man would go in and try and help, even though it was very dangerous and he could be killed. 

          “Sir, we have to stop the fire, it’s spreading over most of the city, and by tomorrow it could leap the river fleet and get to Whitehall!” Mycroft slammed his fist on the table, commanding the attention of the Mayor. “We need to command the tower of London, have them use gunpowder to create effective firebreaks and halt the spread,” 

          “I’m not sure yet, the other firebreaks weren’t effective,” The man pussyfooted yet again, only making his rage grow. 

          “If you don’t make a decision soon, I will pull strings and go over you for this decision, I will not let this go on any longer!” Especially not with each day they waited, more homes were destroyed and there was more of a chance that Gregory would run into the smoke and debris. 

*****

          The fire had already been burning for a solid day by the time he and some of his men had decided they were tired of waiting for an official command to go in to help, having already been breaking up enough fights between those trying to escape and people who were angry that no one was doing anything to stop it. Staying on foot, Greg quickly commanded his men to help children and the elderly get away and not to worry about fighting the fire, only to make sure that as few people had to die as possible. Dampening a cloth and holding it over his face to try and block out the worst of the smoke, Greg tried to protect himself the best he could from the falling embers in the air, directing others on how to get out and away. Breaking up what fights he could the best he could, Greg cursed softly under his breath at the sight of a clearly wounded dog trying to get away as well. 

          “Come here,” He muttered, hoisting the dog up across his shoulders before covering his face again, praying that once he got back out of this hellish scene, Mycroft wouldn’t argue with him too much about his attempts to help, starting to realise at this point there was little stopping the fire save destroying some of the city to save the rest. Greg could feel the dog struggling to breathe by the time they got out of the worst of the smoke, his men starting to regroup and figure out what they could possible do to control the chaos. Greg realised he hadn’t heard anything from Sherlock, and he hadn’t seen the man either since the start of this, he grew worried, knowing the man tended to make friends with those who lived in the slums and took up quarters there. Giving orders for everyone to fall back, to go home to their families and get them ready to leave as well if necessary, Greg gave what bit of water he could to the dog he had rescued before hauling him back around his shoulders and starting off towards where his brother-in-law lived. He breathed a sigh of relief which came with a few hard coughs as well from the smoke he had inhaled before jogging up to the door and giving it a good hard knock. “Sherlock! We need to get out of the city, now!” After a few moments, the door swung open and Sherlock stood there in his dressing gown, a frown on his face. 

          “What do you want Gavin? I have safe fails when and if the fire reaches my home, so if I don’t have to leave, why would I?” The man scowled, but spoke again before Greg could get a word in edgewise. “John isn’t here, if you don’t recall, actually hasn’t been here for two years now. I think I’m safe staying, and if the fire consumes me, then so be it.” With that, the door slammed in his face and Greg was left staring wide eyed at where the man had stood. 

          “Sherlock!” He yelled, falling into another hard coughing fit as he looked back up at the building and carefully going back down the steps. “Come out dammit! It’s not safe, you can’t stay here! I won’t lose you too!” Greg tried again, waiting a minute until he knew he had to keep moving. Right, so Sherlock wasn’t about to move any time soon. “Come on, boy,” He murmured, sighing heavily as he fell back in and followed along with the masses, heading back towards their home and praying that Mycroft would be able to return there as well. “Sherlock’ll take care of you once he’s done with his sulk and realises he has to leave. He can’t just give up because he lost John. He has to keep going, we all do…” Greg placed the poor dog in the garden, the creature still wheezing from the smoke they had been through, though he was slightly more able to hold his weight up as the officer had given a few gentle pats on his head. “I’ll figure something out for you, boy. Promise,” He muttered before letting himself into their home, offering an exhausted smile to his husband as the man yelled and pulled him into a tight hug. 

           “Gregory, dearest, I can’t believe you went down there!” 

           “My men and I couldn’t simply sit and wait until we were told to go out, when we know people need our help. Though your brother’s being a fool and not getting out of danger's way.” 

           “I should have known you would go down there, I just… couldn’t stand the thought of what would happen if I lost you to the fire. Are you okay? I worry about the smoke, are you coughing? Shortness of breath, have a headache? Let me see your eyes,” 

           “Mycroft,” Greg laughed softly over his fussing, though it brought back a few more coughs which he quickly tried to explain away, saying it wasn’t that bad. “Let me wash my face.” He said gently as he pulled away, splashing some water up to get the worst of the soot of his hands and face before taking another rag and dampening it for them both. 

          “Wait… Sherlock is in the fire district? I know he doesn’t want to leave, but we need to force him out. The fool will stay down there thinking he can handle it, and end up severely burned or worse…” Handing the rag to Mycroft, he took the man’s hand and pulled him out of the house, knowing they needed to head back for Sherlock, and hopefully his partner would be able to help him get Sherlock out. 

          “Sherlock won’t listen, and he says that he’s got a plan already. I understand that he’s still mourning John, but he’ll be back, right? Isn’t that what you told me? But we need to go now, the fire’s moving far too fast.” 

          “He may not listen, but that doesn’t mean that we can’t take him by force. He will never hear us enter, as he’s probably too wrapped up in his mind palace. We just administer a bit of a sedative and carry him out. I’m working on getting the mayor to agree to drastic measures to prevent the spread before it hits our neighborhood love, and as long as he does it by tomorrow night, we will be safe. One more evening here will not be a concern. The fire isn’t predicted to spread here till Tuesday evening. If the mayor still hasn’t approved the measures by tomorrow morning, I will come home and we will leave immediately, okay?” Greg grimaced when Mycroft mentioned his plan to drug his brother. 

          “We don’t have time to sedate your brother, love. We just need to get him out of there, even if it means dragging him out kicking and screaming.We’ll just go out there and tell him he doesn’t have a choice in the matter. I’m sure we’ll figure something out.” He said with a nod, holding the rag to his mouth as they reached the smoke filled streets. “I hope the mayor will sort himself out and realise we can’t just sit back and watch the world burn around us.” 

          “Yes, well if he had taken his head out of his arse back when the fire started, and listened to the council, we wouldn’t have been left with these extreme measures,” Mycroft growled, holding up his own cloth. “We can try it your way love, but I can’t promise I will be much help when he starts to resist. I am not the strongest and even though there are two of us, when Sherlock doesn’t want to do something, it can be very difficult to get him to do it, forced or not. You should know this by now.” Greg watched as streams of people covered in soot ran in the opposite direction of them, poor children coughing and wheezing for clean air. “If the measures aren’t called tonight, then I am going in with some of the other council members to override the Mayor’s authority. I swear, once I get the chance, I will be the highest authority in England so that this never happens again. Granted I will make it look like the prime minister is in charge, and they can make the decisions, but if something like this should come up again, I won’t let it get out of hand.” Greg smirked faintly behind his rag as Mycroft promised to always make sure that nothing this horrible would happen. 

          “Thank you,” He murmured, guiding the other back to where Sherlock was living, already the ash in the air thicker and a few stubborn embers flickering along and nipping at their skin. “Sherlock! Come out now! It’s not safe, we have to leave London!” Greg yelled over his insistent pounding on the door. “I know you don’t have John anymore, but if you stay, you’ll never have him again, nor will he you! The Sherlock I know would never do that to John!” After a few moments he growled and decided it was time for more drastic measures, stepping back and kicking hard on the door, it only taking a few tries before it caved in. They could barely see in front of them, the smoke having already permeated through the walls and into Sherlock’s home. 

          “Dammit brother mine, we are leaving now, you don’t have a choice. Grab what is most precious to you, you are staying at our house till it is safe,” Sherlock was still laying on the couch, his hands under his chin in a steeple, and he wasn’t responding. “Love, gather his things, the most important. He keeps them in a chest at the foot of his bed.” Greg moved to the bedroom, quickly throwing what he considered important into the chest and pulling it out into the living room where Mycroft was shouting and trying to get Sherlock to respond. 

          “Let’s trade,” Greg decided after a moment, kneeling down and listening to the man’s chest to assure himself that he was still breathing and living. “I already hauled a dog half way across the city, I can carry your brother too. The man hardly weighs anything with his distaste for eating properly.” He explained after a moment, moving to pull Sherlock half off the sofa he was on, carefully sorting him across his back before pushing himself up once more. “Get his things, I’ve got him. We have to get going now, we can sort out if it’s smoke or your brother refusing to come out of his mind once we get him back home. Now we just have to go.” They made their way out, Mycroft carrying the chest and Greg hauling Sherlock over his shoulder, making their way through the congested streets and back to the house. Mycroft practically dropped the chest once they were inside and grabbed a damp flannel to wipe of Sherlock’s face as Greg set him down on the bed in the spare room, removing his soot covered clothes and dressing him in something clean. 

          “Dammit Sherlock,” Mycroft hissed, wiping the soot from the man’s skin. 

          “His breath is steady. He’s a fool, but he’s alright. He would be gasping if it had been the smoke,” Greg explained, willing his own breath to be steadier than it truly was against the burning of his lungs. Turning away to give a few hard coughs to clear his throat as much as he could, Greg frowned slightly when he heard a scratching at the door. “Stay with him,” He directed, opening the door and smiling faintly at the sight of the same dog from earlier. “Actually, come here,” Greg murmured, carefully scooping up the dog and carrying him into the room to Sherlock, ignoring Mycroft’s confused and slightly disgusted glare at the animal. “He likes dogs, right? He needs to care for something besides worrying for John. Sherlock, wake up, you have a dog now,” He said, only being gentle enough to not hurt the dog as he placed the animal on Sherlock’s chest, smirking slightly when the dog started to lick his face. 

          “Gregory, really, you know he won’t care for the dog. He will keep it, but you will end up caring for it and I will end up paying for it,” Mycroft scowled. After a few moments, Sherlock started sputtering, his expression twisting as he opened his eyes and realised where he was, and that there was a dog on his chest. 

          “Graham, I thought I told you to leave me be…” Sherlock spat, looking up at both of them, then back down at himself. “Not only did you bring me here, and sit a soot covered dog on my chest, but you changed my clothes?”

          “What, did you think I was the one licking your face?” Greg joked softly, grimacing as another hard cough ripped through his chest as he grabbed for his rag and wiped his face, grimacing at the slight coppery taste that was starting to build up in his throat. No doubt it would take him some time to clear the smoke and ash from his lungs. “Yes, I changed your clothes, as you needed it. Now shut up and name your dog, but be kind to him, he’s got an injured leg. I found him on the streets trying to help with evacuations.” 

          “Gregory, your cough is getting worse….” Mycroft fussed, moving next to him and rubbing his back.

*****

          “Gregory…. Gregory?” Greg moaned softly as he blinked back to reality, looking up at Mycroft before closing his eyes again with a grimace. “Gregory dear, please come back to me,” 

          “My head,” He complained softly, lifting his hand up to try and take off the mask though one of the EMT’s in the back quickly stopped him. 

          “Sir, you’ve been non responsive for a couple minutes now. We think you might have had a seizure. We’re taking you to the hospital to get checked over. Do you know where you are?” She asked, Greg slowly pulling his hand away from the mask and reaching out limply to hold onto Mycroft’s sleeve. He had so many questions about everything that had just gone through his head, but they couldn’t talk about it here, surrounded by everyone else. It would only make things worse, he was sure. 

          “I’m okay. Once we’re out of the city my cough will stop.” Greg murmured, only just loud enough for Mycroft to hear, or so he thought. Smiling weakly back towards the EMT, he saw the man sorting out an IV and wincing as they stuck the needle in. “How was it a seizure?” 

          “It may have been an absence seizure followed by an extended postictal period where you were non responsive as well. Do you remember anything?” 

          “I don’t know.” Greg lied, looking back at Mycroft and tightening his hold on the man. “I want to go home.” 

          “We’ll do some tests and keep you around for observation, but going home and resting will be a very good idea once all of this is done.” 

          “Thank the gods you are alright my heart. I know you want to go home love, and we will, as soon as the doctor’s say you are clear to go. We need to make sure everything is okay.” Mycroft lifted his hands and kissed his knuckles, Greg giving him a weak smile. “It’s okay, you’re safe, you’re out of the smoke,” 

 

          Greg had never experienced anything like the flashback that he’d had at the crime scene, but he definitely felt exhausted once it was all over with. Forcing himself to stay awake long enough for them to get a blood sample and to do a brain scan, he almost felt bad for the doctors when everything came back inconclusive, though they still elected to rule it as a seizure anyway. Grumbling about how that meant he would be on office duty till further notice, Greg gave into the lingering exhaustion to sleep for just a little longer, not having much else to do while in a hospital bed anyway. Waking about an hour later, Greg smiled faintly to Mycroft where he sat against the wall, clearing his throat to call the man’s attention and pat the empty space beside him on the bed to invite him up. 

          “London was burning. No one was doing anything and we had to take Sherlock because his home was going to burn, but he didn’t care because he didn’t have John. There was so much fire, and there was nothing I could do,” He sighed once Mycroft had joined him, carefully moving his IV line and vitals monitor around before curling into the other man’s side, wanting nothing more than to be close again. “I hate fire,” 

          “Love, you did more than anyone could have asked for. You saved Sherlock’s life. Yes, that was a terrifying time, and you were so very brave. I’m sorry something like this happened to you while you were at work, I should have thought about that and told you to stay away from fires.” Greg laughed softly as Mycroft apologised, shaking his head as he lifted up just long enough to give him a gentle and loving kiss. 

          “The case was assigned to me before the fire. I never would have been able to turn it away after just because I don’t like fire.” He explained, resting his head back on the man’s shoulder and entwined their fingers.

          “No, but you could have sent someone else in instead…” Mycroft’s voice was soft as he ran a hand over his back.

          “I don’t understand why that memory was so much stronger than others, or why it went on for so long. It was a dramatic experience, yes, but my memory of being with your family in Germany wasn’t anything like that, but it hit me all the same… I don’t understand.” 

          “I’m just glad you are okay. Like I said, you can always talk to my dad or Ryan about these sorts of things. They have been through it and may be able to explain tips or tricks on how to manage them…” Greg sighed after a while, closing his eyes but hardly interested in sleeping again. 

          “You said you would take power to make sure nothing like that could ever happen again. Was that when you took your position you have now? So much was lost in the fire… did we stay in London after all that?” 

          “I wanted to be sure that if something horrible happens, that someone like that idiot mayor would not stand in the way of saving thousands of people’s homes and livelihoods. I took that position after pulling strings and cashing in favours I had earned after years of working in the government, and kept it for a relatively long time. Granted it was under a few different names, always handed down through ‘family’ of sorts, as I couldn’t keep it with the same name throughout the centuries. I did though, take a bit of leave from the line of duty when you passed in 1943, and went to serve in a similar position in Paris. The queen brought me back though, and covered for the fact that I was still using the same name, and well… here we are today. Though I do admit, it might be hard after this life to keep on here without someone starting to get suspicious. Keeping that position within the family for nearly three hundred and fifty years seems a bit odd.” Mycroft chuckled. 

          “Don’t want to be a king in your own way?” Greg asked with a faint smile, looking up at Mycroft before closing his eyes again and hugging Mycroft a little tighter. 

          “Well, I think my position is better than king, and I always feel like royalty with you.” 

          “We could go somewhere completely new, you know. Asia, the Americas, stay here until I would otherwise retire, move on from there. Who knows, you could even pass it on to Miles by then, if he was interested in the work.” He offered, smiling to himself at the thought of keeping it all in the family one way or another. “It’s just odd to think about sometimes. All these lives that I’ve had. Eleven past lives, eleven past sets of parents and siblings… it’s daunting to think about too much. I’d love to know more about them, but… where do you even start with that, you know?” 

          “As long as I am with you my darling, I don’t mind one bit where we live. I’m sure once you have all your memories it won’t seem so daunting. I’ve met them all, and for the most part can keep them separate… though over the years, you look a tad different each life. Your eyes and smile never change, but everything else does. If I had to tell you what was different each life, I might struggle. If shown a picture, I could tell you when that was, but if you asked me right now, for all the lives, it would be hard.” 

          “I can barely keep the last eleven days straight, I certainly can’t get cross with you for not remembering the differences between eleven lives.” Greg chuckled, carefully sitting up some when the doctor came in with a collection of papers for them. 

          “Are those the discharge papers?” 

          “They are, yes. We’re comfortable with discharging you home, but we have a referral for you to see a specialist in seizures for a follow up.” The doctor explained, handing over the papers for Greg to look over. The detective only scanned them a moment before pulling a slight face as his brain still felt too scrambled to really look through all the pamphlets and just went to signing what was necessary to leave the hospital as soon as possible. 

          “I’ll be sure to phone tomorrow to make an appointment. You’ll forgive me if I’d rather just rest right now,” Greg made a few easy excuses, smiling faintly to the doctor as he handed the forms back to him, the other man looking less than convinced. “I scared both my husband and my sergeant at the scene. No doubt I’ll have to submit a medical clearance form at work before I’m allowed back in the field or behind a wheel. I’ll do the follow up.” He defended himself, the doctor starting to relax some, knowing that his patient really would take care of himself. “I just want to go home and have some tea right now, is all. I’ll sort out everything else tomorrow.” 

         “Yes, gave me quite a fright. I will be staying home with him today and tomorrow, and will be making sure that he has a follow up.” Mycroft took his hand and smiled back to him, squeezing it slightly. “Don’t need to go and lose you now, do I husband dear?” 

          Greg felt himself blush as he laughed to himself at Mycroft’s endearments, the doctor blessedly shaking his head in vague amusement at the mess of it all. 

          “The type of seizure you had isn’t dangerous by itself, only dependent on your surroundings. If we can find the trigger, that would be best, but with your obvious lack of history with this sort of thing, it may very well have been a one off occurrence. Please do make sure you make your appointment as soon as possible, but rest and reducing what stress you’re able to will do you the most good. Hope you have a better day,” The doctor explained, offering a handshake to them both before stepping out, followed shortly by a nurse to help unhook him from the different monitors he was attached to. Mycroft helped him back into his own clothes and they were lead out to the car that waited for them down below, Greg getting to ride in a wheelchair the whole way down. 

          “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable with calling you my husband… just sort of came out back there.” Greg said once they were able to relax in the back seat, taking Mycroft’s hand into his to kiss his knuckles. 

          “You didn’t make me uncomfortable my heart, you just surprised me is all. I haven’t heard you call me that in public since the forties. It was… nice. I messaged Anthea, and we have an immortal doctor that is going to come and do the follow up. I doubt there is anything to find, but at least he will be able to give you a clean bill of health for work, and we don’t have to worry about hospitals wanting to keep doing tests for you. They won’t find anything, and if they do, I doubt it’s anything we want hospitals to have their hands on,” As they arrived to the house, Mycroft helped him out of the car and into the bedroom, Greg smiling as the man fussed over him. He was amused to say the very least, seeing Mycroft tut around him they way he hated anyone else to do for him, but it was sweet. “I’m going to warm up some soup from the other night, and bring you some tea. You stay here and rest, I will be back shortly.” Finally looking at his mobile and nearly laughing at the number of missed calls and texts he had received, Greg slowly got to work at clearing them all, first calling his parents to let them know what had happened, followed by texting Donovan and smiling when she said that it had been Sherlock that had called for help and hadn't let anyone but her and the EMT’s near him till Mycroft had arrived. Laughing to himself at the collection of panicked texts he had gotten from Molly as well, give it to Sherlock for not being so kind to her in arriving bored now that the scene was a bust and bothering her instead. He finished assuring her that he really and truly was okay, setting down his mobile just as Mycroft came up with everything on a table to sit over his lap so he could eat in bed. 

          “Tell me about where we went after the fire? I’m assuming I ended up caring for the dog I gave to Sherlock? I’m guessing he named it Redbeard too?” 

          “We went to Coventry, and yes, the dog was named Redbeard and you ended up caring for the gross mutt,” Mycroft scowled, setting down the tray and taking a seat next to him in bed. “Now, eat.” 

          “Yes Sir,” Greg said with a smirk, turning after the light kiss to his cheek to give him a proper one before tucking into his meal. It was nice and warm, and while he wasn’t exactly in the mood to eat it all at once, he was just glad that Mycroft wasn’t bothering him for eating so slow, far more interested in the comfort that the chamomile tea brought him in slowing his mind from rushing around, trying to sort out what had all happened. 

          “We did come back though. We’ve basically stayed in England since then, apart from the year we did spend in Abisko. That was lovely. We are going to have a quiet evening tonight, the doctor will be here by eleven tomorrow morning, and then, if you would like visitors, you can, but you are not to leave the house alone until you have clearance. Rest up for two days. I made sure to clear it with your work.” Once Greg had finished his meal, answering a few texts here and there along with a few emails with his superintendent, he carefully moved the table to the floor before rolling over and shifting into Mycroft’s hold, mindful not to disrupt his reading as he rest his head on the man’s chest. 

          “I’m glad Sherlock was there, at least. As painful as it is to say sometimes.” 

          “Yes, well he will never admit it, but he does care for you. He wouldn’t have called for help, or kept everyone off the scene except a choice few if he didn’t. Now, if you bring it up to him, I’m sure he will have some well thought out excuses for his behaviour, but he really does care,” Mycroft chuckled, placing his book back on the nightstand. “You’ve told me a lot of the memories you have, but I do wonder, what are some of the things you wish you could remember? Like specific moments or memories?” Greg hummed softly as he considered Mycroft’s question, probing his mind for a lack of a better way to describe it as he tried to figure out where the different gaps were in his memories that he was curious of filling in the most. 

          “Egypt. I only remember you being sick, I wish I could remember more of that. Venice, definitely, I’ve always wanted to go there but after remembering the plague… I don’t know if I’d want to go back or not either. Knowing the Queen when she was little. Pompeii before it was destroyed.” He mused after a moment, sliding his hand up under Mycroft’s shirt to rest across his chest, but not pushing for anything more at the moment. Everyone was hellbent on him taking the day easy, and while he would love to have a day all to himself and Mycroft, he knew it would be best to wait until he was cleared by the doctor tomorrow to make sure he really was alright. “The languages too. It’s confusing to have a memory in another language that I don’t understand. Saving grace for my memories from Nice or Paris is that I was raised bilingual.” 

          “Yes, well eventually you will remember the languages, and how lovely it will be to speak with you again in one true tongue, and for you to understand it. Egypt was hot, and full of sand, and it got everywhere and was difficult to get it out. Lovely place, full of culture and rich history, but still, not one of my most favourite locations. Though, that was mostly due to the fact that I am absolutely rubbish with heat. I would still have to say that my favourite memory, well at least one of my favourites, was our first date, but then, our first time as well,” Greg smiled up at Mycroft as he talked about his favourite memory, tracing small patterns around the man’s chest while being mindful not to accidentally tickle him.

          “I’m glad we were able to recreate our first date when we were in Rome. I know you were upset because it didn’t go exactly to plan, but it was still wonderful. Now I’ll have to look forward to the memory of having you the first time as well,” He said with a grin, shifting up to kiss the man slowly, pulling his hand out from under Mycroft’s shirt to cradle the back of his head and hold him close as they lazily explored one another, simply taking comfort in having one another after the day he’d had. “I love you. I hope the same now as I did every time before. You’re my everything.” 

          “I think you love me a little more each life, my heart. Well, would you like to watch some telly, or read a book, or something? You need to rest, and it’s only half past four. Though I do admit, an early night in, going to bed around eight thirty, nine, sounds absolutely fantastic. I’m not sure why I am so tired, but I feel as though I could sleep for two days straight.” 

          “Stress does that to a man, and I fully realise you deal with stress every day, but this was different. You separate yourself from work, and this was personal.” He explained softly, leaning up to press one more kiss to Mycroft’s nose with a laugh when he scrunched his face in silent protest. “I will never get sick of that, ever. Some telly I think would be nice, and even though you keep telling me I need to rest, I think I’d rather watch down on the sofa then up here. My back is starting to ache from laying down so much,” Greg murmured, still not immortal just yet and very much a slave to his age and the aches that came along with it. Mycroft helped him down the stairs, and they sat in relative silence as he flicked through the channels, and Mycroft reading a book that he didn’t even have a clue as to what it was written it. It was nice that they didn’t always have to be doing the same thing. Blinking himself from a half doze as Mycroft mentioned the time, Greg groaned softly. 

          “Oh my, it’s getting rather late. I didn’t even notice, we should probably head to bed. I know we can sleep in a little by your standards tomorrow, but you still aren’t very good with mornings, so let’s go. Up, up.” 

          “Fine, yes okay, just…” He complained softly, pushing himself up with a huff and stretching his arms high above his head before dropping them to Mycroft’s shoulders and offering him a sleep lazy smile. “Always so bossy. I do wish I could remember a time when I was able to teach you a thing or two. One of these days, they’ll invent something new and I’ll be ahead of the curve for once,” Greg teased, leaning in to give him a quick kiss and a hug before allowing himself to be lead back upstairs for the night. 

          “Good night my dearest,” Mycroft smiled, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck and they drifted off to sleep. 

*****

**Rome 27 B.C.E**

          His heart was racing, and the sound was roaring in his ears as they stepped up to the bath house, not sure what Gregori would think of his forward gesture. Mycroft had sent word ahead that they were to rent a private room in the bathhouse for the evening, just the two of them. As they walked down the streets, the man was off talking about something else he was reading about, or some part of the gladiator fights that he had watched, but all Mycroft could think of was that moment, when the two of them would be alone, and he would tell him he was ready to know him for the first time. The attendant showed them to their room, setting down a few oils on the side bench before shutting the door and leaving them completely alone. It took Gregori a moment to realise where they were, turning towards him with a smile. 

          “Something just for the two of us? What’s the occasion?” The man smirked, tugging at the trailing edge of his toga and pulling him close. “I know it has not been a year yet, so you cannot jeer me for forgetting that.” 

          “No, it hasn’t been a year, not even a month, Gregori.” Mycroft’s voice was a tad shaky as he looked to the other man, glad for the heat that came from the water, disguising his blush as a reaction to the temperature. Swallowing hard, he took a deep breath, reminding himself that this would happen, that Gregori wouldn’t tease him or test him if he didn’t want this, instead they would just enjoy a simple bath together. The man was never one to cause humiliation, instead he was kind, caring and gentle, and if the man  _ did  _ want this, to know him for the first time, Mycroft would have to learn quickly so he didn’t seem like an inexperienced child. “I was hoping this might be a special occasion for us, something starting today,” He started, his voice soft as it echoed against the tiles. Looking up, he locked gazes with those dark eyes, his heart melting, and his mind giving in, knowing this was exactly what he wanted. 

          “What are you up to in that massive brain of yours?” 

          “I want to know you Gregori…” The man was mindlessly toying with his toga, slowly pulling it undone, but they froze when he finally understood what he had meant. 

          “But you do… oh…” Mycroft let out a gasp as the man pressed him against the wall, those tough hands pressing hard into his hips and that mouth claiming his in a desperate, heated kiss. “My brilliant man, are you sure? To have you as my own?” Letting out a moan, he reached around, dragging his nails over the other’s back, his desperation mixing with nerves, everything feeling as if it were on fire. 

          “Yes, please, I want this, to know you, to have you as my own, and to give myself to you…” Mycroft whispered between kisses, leaning into the other’s touch as he felt Gregori press against him. His skin was on fire, the heat of their actions mixed with the heat of the room and the fact that he was still partially dressed, it was all too much. Letting the fabric slide from his arm, he slipped his hands beneath the man’s tunic, sliding up against his thigh as he pulled it up, wanting them both to be out of their clothing. 

          “I will care for you, my love,” Gregori murmured, stepping back just long enough for them to both undress before stepping in once more and kissing along his neck, sucking a mark just over his heart. “Relax, Mycroft. I have you,” Gregori promised, reaching for the oils the attendant had left and pouring some onto his hands. The liquid felt cold compared to the heat in the room and the heat in his skin, the man’s hands rubbing the oil into his back and then traveling down lower to his arms. “Tell me what you need and I’ll give you all of it.” There were only a few books in a very closed section at the forum that had anything on the sexual arts, but Mycroft had been able to sneak one out during a break. If he hadn’t he wouldn’t have much to go on. Pressing close, he trailed his hot breath along the man’s collarbone and up his neck, taking the man’s ear between his teeth as he sucked and teased. His whole body vibrated as the man responded, only urging him to continue. 

          “I need you, I need all of you. I want you to take me, to know me so completely. Don’t treat me like a glass doll, I want you to show me your desires, and use me however you wish.” Mycroft hissed, rolling his hips against Gregori’s and letting out a groan as a wave of pleasure flowed over him. 

          “You may not be glass, but you’re human. We’ll get there,” Human, but far more durable than Gregori would ever understand, though it wasn’t something he could mention to the man, not during this lifetime. He didn’t know yet, even if his heart screamed it, that he would be the one to return to him. Moving where directed, Mycroft braced himself against the chaise, leaning up against the other as he blanketed his back, worrying his lower lip as he felt those deft fingers reach between his cleft and press against his entrance. “Relax, my sun. Trust me when I say that you need patience.” 

          “Gods, Gregori,” A groan ripped from his chest, echoing off of the tiles and through the room, muffled by the sounds of the forced air in the bath causing bubbles. After a few moments, he pressed back against the intrusion, wanting more, wanting the other to go faster. 

          “That’s it, just like that. Do you like me in you? You have so much more to come, Mycroft. Don’t fight I have you.” Doing as he was told, he willed himself to relax and he was rewarded with the pressure and pleasure of a second finger, his hips grinding back and a moan ripping through his chest as he pleaded for more. “That’s it Mycroft, just like that.” The tinges of pain gave way to pleasure, and the man pressed against his back, those lips on his shoulder, and the way he could feel the man’s smile only added to the heat in his cheeks. Rolling his head back as the third digit was pressed in, Mycroft ground back as hard as he could on those thick fingers, letting out a cry as he jumped, something having been igniting inside of him. “Liked that, did you?” 

           “What was that?” Panting, he pushed back against him, hoping to trigger that same reaction and letting a loud groan slip as they skirted over that same spot once more. 

           “A trick,” Gregori offered, kissing along his neck as Mycroft continued to grind against him. 

           “Please, my love, take me, I want to feel you, all of you, now, hard, fast, please,” 

           “Perhaps next time we can go faster, but this time I aim to savour every word and sound that comes from your mouth,” Gregori growled, pressing the head of his cock into him, his cries bouncing off the walls, the room alight with their noises. “Oh, you feel amazing, Mycroft. Why would I ever wish to rush this?” There were no words that came to mind at the question, just a few groans as he tried to keep himself standing, but finding it a tad harder, even though he wanted more of this. 

          “Love, as good as this feels, I wish to see you.” Mycroft moaned, moving his arse back and forth, grinding against the man’s lap, knowing that if he felt this good from this small bit of movement, that Gregori must as well. “Please my moon and my stars,” He wasn’t sure how much longer he could stand, his knees growing weak below him. What he really wanted though, was to look into those deep, chocolate eyes, and see the pleasure across the man’s face as they moved together towards bliss. 

          “It’s harder that way, Mycroft…” 

          “Ah!” Mycroft shouted as the man thrust hard into him, brushing against that sweetest of spots. “Gods, bless,” If it hadn’t been for Gregori’s arms, he might have collapsed when the man pulled away, his legs feeling rather shaky. 

          “On the floor? I’m strong enough to hold you, but I would rather not have us fall when my legs give out from pleasure…” 

          “Or… we could take advantage of the warm water and seating in the bath. After all, I did get us a private room for a reason,” He quipped, his words coming out between gasps. The idea of having the cold tiles pressed against his hot skin didn’t seem inviting, but having the water caress them as they continued, that sounded heavenly. Taking a few careful steps into the water, he waited until the man was seated and leaned against the edge of the bath, straddling Gregori’s waist. “I feel as if the goddess Venus and her son Cupid have visited us today,” Nipping at the man’s neck, he reached between them, a jolt of excitement running through him as he wrapped a hand around the man’s prick to line himself up. Sinking back down onto the man’s thick cock, Mycroft let out a moan as he buried his face in his partner's neck, wrapping his arms around Gregori’s shoulders. 

          “Oh, Gods… Mycroft, my sun, you’ll spoil me to anyone else.” At first he set the pace, the water making it easier to move up and back down, but it seemed that his love was growing far too desperate. Holding on and staying still, Mycroft let the other take over, pounding into him with little resolve, the shift of his hips brushing against that pleasure spot every time, his release quickly building. 

          “I do hope so my moon and my stars. After today, I never wish for another to touch you in this way. You are mine and I am yours.” Moaning, Mycroft sucked and bit along the man’s neck, his eyes screwed shut as he whimpered and felt the heat starting to spill over the edges. “Gregori, I-I’m…” He stuttered, his words escaping him. 

          “Give yourself over to me, Mycroft. I have you, give yourself to me.” Gregori hissed, still thrusting fast and hard when his orgasm hit. He felt full, impossible so as the man shot his seed into him, his cock continuing to pump into his body. Leaning forward, Mycroft stilled and let the pleasure take over, feeling his orgasm finally hit as he bit down on the man’s shoulder, his nails scratching that lovely skin. After a few moments, he collapsed, his breathing ragged as he sat still, just listening to the sounds of his partners breathing and the babbling of the water. Pulling back, he looked into those soft features, smiling as Gregori gave him that crooked grin of his, his heart flipping. 

          “That was more than I could have ever asked for, my heart.” 

          “I will ever be in debt to the fates for bringing us together. I hope to never leave your side again,” 

*****

          “Et luna et stellis numquam mea,”  _ And you never shall my moon and stars. _ Mycroft mumbled, his voice thick and heavy as he turned over in bed, still half asleep as he reached out for Gregory, wanting to pull the man closer. Licking his lips and groaning, he pressed against the other’s back, a smile creeping up on his features. That dream had been lovely, or memory, whichever one would prefer to call it. It was their first time together, so it had been real, but it was one of his favourite things when something special like that starred in his dreams at night. “Te amo cor meum,”  _ I love you my heart. _ His voice was muffled against the other’s neck, pressing a sleep addled kiss there, still trapped somewhere between asleep and awake. 

          “Good dream? Are you going to speak in English or should I get a translator?” Gregory asked with a soft laugh, reaching up to squeeze his wrist. “Love you too. That I understood.” 

          “Mmm, very good dream. You were so sweet, so kind and took such good care of me, and the things you said… Et fatis numquam debere nos in deducendo,”  _ I will ever be in debt to the fates for bringing us together.  _ Letting out a soft purr, Mycroft pulled the man closer as he rocked back against his groin. “Keep that up and this dream might just have an extended ending,” He chuckled, finally blinking awake so he could look at his partner. “Two thousand years, and I still will never tire of waking to you at my side. I called you my moon and stars, it used to be the name I used for you, like I use my heart now. You had a name for me as well, do you remember?” 

          “It’s too early to think,” Gregory complained, rolling over and wrapping an arm and a leg around him. “My sun. You’ll be telling me I have to wake up soon, won’t you? I won’t get to tease you for having a sex dream about me.” Hearing those words once more, from this version of his love, it was like spreading fire through his veins. 

          “You still have a good half an hour before you have to wake.” Nuzzling the man’s neck, he traced his hot breath and tongue over the most sensitive patches of skin, biting and nipping as he went. “Tease me all you like, but you have said before that when you were younger you had such dreams as well. At least in mine I know who you are and it’s not some strange man.” Mycroft chuckled, rolling his hips against the other again. “That is, unless you like the idea of having sex with strange, older men,” Raising a brow, he pulled back enough to look into Gregory’s eyes, a smile on his lips. 

          “I could never make out your face in them, I was always just aware of the feeling. Though somehow, I always knew it was the same person. I suppose it’s that your brain still can’t quite make up a new face, but instead of using another that I’d seen, it knew to wait. Knew not to get that one wrong.” Chuckling, Mycroft sucked on the patch of skin where Gregory’s shoulder met his neck, biting and licking, leaving marks just below the collar. 

          “Yes, don’t get this one wrong,” He purred, his hands traveling under the man’s shirt to trace over his back, pressing him closer. “What sorts of memories were these, or what did you feel?” He questioned further, letting his hands roam slowly over the other, loving the very real feeling of the other’s body pressed against him. It was one thing when he used to remember the feel of Gregory, the way he would hold him, press against him, that skin on skin contact, and then to wake to remember the man wasn’t with him, but today was different. He was here. 

          “Something like this… you against me, around me, sometimes in me, but always touching me. Wanted, Protected,” Gregory breathing, looking up to him with a fond smile. “I love you. I know this is where I belong, now and always. But we should get changed for when the doctor arrives. I’m not looking forward to remembering the times I’m sure we’ve been caught over the years. You’ll know that one because I’ll never stop blushing again.” Gregory kissed him. “I’ll go through as many headaches and nosebleeds it takes to stay with you.” Smiling, Mycroft pulled him in for one last kiss, pouring his heart into it and pulling back with a smile on his lips. 

          “I’ll stay with you till I die my moon and stars.” 


	32. XXXI

          Those six months flew by, and soon Anthea came back to work, Miles grew like a weed, and Gregory was ecstatic when he was released to drive on his own. Granted, Mycroft always had a driver ready to take him, but he knew that the man liked his independence. The nanny had dropped off Miles about a half and hour ago, Mycroft having agreed to watch the little tyke while Anthea and Ryan when on a well deserved date night. He was still so surprised how fast the little one was growing and learning, already shuffling around his office on his hands and knees, making all sorts of cooing and gurgling noises as he explored. Filing the last of his paperwork, Mycroft stood with a groan, his back aching from sitting all day hunched over his desk. 

          “Lorem parva, tempus ut domum,”  _ Alright little one, time for us to go home.  _ He would never admit it, or do it in front of the others, but Mycroft had been speaking solely in Latin to Miles, hoping that the child might pick up the language and he could have a secret partner with whom to share his beloved tongue. As much as they ended up watching the child, he figured by time Miles could start forming words, his first might be in Latin, and the thought filled him with glee. “Habebimus Gregori paucas horas habet domi nobis quicquid faciemus?”  _ We will have a few hours to ourselves before Gregory gets home, whatever shall we do?  _ Mycroft smiled, lifting the little one to sit in his arms, walking out of the office and looking to Anthea. Leaning in, he pressed a kiss to the baby’s head, whispering quietly enough that Anthea couldn’t hear. “Et dices vale ad mammam,”  _ Say goodbye to mommy,  _ raising Miles arm and waving it bye, she came up and pressed a few kisses to her son, saying her goodbyes til later tonight. “Don’t worry my dear, I’m sure we won’t have too much fun without you.” Giving her a side hug, glad she was back, Mycroft kissed her forehead before walking out, heading towards the waiting car, which now came with a car seat, a rather new addition to all of his vehicles. 

          They spent the afternoon together, looking through old children’s books he had kept throughout the centuries, and of course, Mycroft continued to speak to the child in Latin. Even if the little one could respond, there was a giddy feeling building in his chest as he spoke, hardly ever getting the chance to do so in his mother tongue. The only one he could speak it with was Anthea, and to avoid odd looks or questions, they never used it. He looked forward to the day when Gregory could remember everything once more, because then he could speak it again and hear his lovers voice, using his beloved native tongue. 

          “Ecce parvulum Gregori mox aderit, et tu doces nos et non indicavit ei verbum linguam.”  _ Yes, little one, Gregory will be here soon, but you mustn’t tell him that we are teaching you the mother tongue.  _ Mycroft laughed, holding up the stuffed Roman Centurian, a smile on his face as Miles reached out for it. Just then, he heard Gregory come through the door, and Miles squealed and shuffled on over, crawling as fast as his little arms and legs would go. Mycroft stood with a groan, smiling as his partner picked up the child and gave him a kiss, making miles laugh, his heart melting just as much then as it did every time he saw the man with a child. “He’s been busy with me today. He helped me at the office, and we’ve been reading about Roman gladiators today,” Holding the little doll up, Miles reached out and took it from him, holding it close as he looked back to Gregory with a smile. 

          “Is that so?” Gregory asked as he patted Miles on the back. “I used to be one of those, a long time ago, not anymore.” The man said softly, taking the arm of the toy that held the sword and made little bashing sounds as he tapped Miles’ nose, grinning as the boy laughed again before squirming to get down. “Enough cuddling with uncle Greg, I see how it is. Where are we going bud? It was nice to be out in the field again, though they certainly gave me plenty of jokes about wanting to drive everywhere. Has he been down for a nap, or are we going to find him crashed out somewhere random in about five minutes?” 

          “I’m sure you were rather excited,” Mycroft chuckled as the man set down the child and then moved to pull him closer, giving him a soft kiss on the lips. “He hasn’t slept yet, so I’m sure he will crash soon.” Gregory pulled away and went down to Miles’ level, the child grinning and making babbling noises as he offered his toys to his partner. Leaning back against the arm of the sofa, he watched as the two of them played back and forth on the floor, Mycroft’s heart fluttering as he watched them, the child squealing in delight as Gregory made faces and did silly actions. Watching the two of them, he couldn’t help the smile creeping up on his lips as they continued their little games, his mind wandering to thoughts of having their own little one. He still couldn’t get over the idea that it could actually happen now, with the incredible gift that Anthea and Ryan were giving them. Getting lost in his thoughts, Mycroft didn’t notice that he was caught staring, Gregory now looking up to him as he continued to look off into space with a grin on his lips. 

          “What you’ll come to realise, Miles, is your uncle Mycroft has a bigger heart than he strictly knows what to do with, and when it overrules his brain, he sort of gets lost.” Jumping only slightly when he felt those lips on his own, Mycroft chuckled softly as he hummed, moving a hand to rest on the man’s free shoulder. “Welcome back, love. I’m going to put him down, then we should probably sort out something for dinner. Did you have anything in mind?” 

          “I haven’t a clue, and you know I will always eat whatever you cook. Here, I will put the little one down so you can look through the book. We both know I’m practically useless in the kitchen anyway,” Shifting the small one onto his shoulder, he gave one last kiss to Gregory and walked to his office where he had set up a crib. As soon as the child was old enough and Anthea would let him out of her sights, he had purchased a few necessities to keep in their home for him, knowing they would use them later. There was a crib in his office so that he could keep an eye on the little on if he ever needed to work, and for him to sleep in the same floor they were on. A changing table also donned the main floor bathroom, and there were toys, bouncers and other small things, as well as a stash of diapers, bottles, formula and anything the tyke could need, so that Anthea didn’t have to bring a bag every time they watched him. Letting the infant down, Mycroft smiled as he placed a kiss on his forehead and quietly made his way back to the kitchen. 

          Joining Gregory in the kitchen, he grabbed a bottle of wine and poured a glass for the both of them, putting the cork back in and moving to stand next to the other. 

          “We should get one of those baby radios for Miles. Everyone knows when they’re crying and all, but it can be useful to know when they’re starting to wake up too, you know?” Gregory mused, smiling over to him and kissing his shoulder as he stood next to him. 

          “We already have cameras for security installed in most rooms in the house, Gregory. We would just have to add audio components and get a handheld so we can use it without having to be connected to the computer.” Mycroft chuckled, watching as the man moved without hesitation, cooking up pork and adding seasoning, the smell starting to drift through the room. 

           “Or we could just get a radio like the rest of humanity. I’m sure it wouldn’t be that hard to put in the required adjustments so that no one could hack it and listen in on the house in general, but still. It’s just so that you can tell if they’re up or not.” 

          “Why go through the extended measures of making the baby radio safe, when I can just use the existing system?” Mycroft shrugged, not sure why Gregory was so insistent on using a monitor that was specifically for babies. A radio was a radio, his was just high quality and already installed. Honestly, he had already been working on putting audio throughout the house, just incase it was needed when Sherlock managed to get in, but that wasn’t something he needed to bring up for this. 

          “Also, if it ever happens, you know full well I expect footage of you with him on your hip as you tell world leaders how to actually lead the world. As long as he doesn’t start picking it up too.”

          “I’m not sure I would ever bring a child to that situation though, as politicians are already children themselves, and I don’t think I could deal with them _ and  _ a real child,” Mycroft moved to take a seat at the island, taking a few sips of his wine, smiling over to his partner. “Doesn’t mean he won’t pick up on any of it though when he visits the office with his mother and I, or when he’s in my office and I’m working from home…” 

          “I love that boy, but I’m not looking forward to him learning how to be a terrifying little badass from both his mum and you. He won’t be able to get into fights in school because he’ll make everyone cry just from glaring at them.” 

          “Yes, well on one hand he will learn to stand up for himself and be self sufficient and smart, but from Ryan and yourself, he will learn to be loving, caring, kind, gentle and have a great sense of humour. He’ll be well rounded.” 

          “Or very twisted,” Gregory added with a laugh. “And while I know Sherlock will never admit to any of it, I’ve caught him snooping around in my phone looking at pictures of Miles. He’s coming around to the idea of being an uncle, he just can’t let you know he might enjoy it. We also have all these decisions to look forward to with our own little ones.” 

          “Yes, we will have quite a few. Like cloth nappies or store bought, if we have one of us stay at home, or who would care for our child while we are at work. Formula, or breast milk, colour of their room, simple things like that. Though I know that some of those, there really isn’t much to talk about as we both know the obvious choices,” Mycroft chuckled, leaning into the man’s affections as he walked over and wrapped his arms around his waist. “Yes, well, you know Sherlock will never let you know when he really enjoys something that doesn’t have a scientific or logical purpose.” Moving, Mycroft set the table, grabbing the plates and silverware and whatever else Gregory had asked him for, before taking a seat, helping the man plate the food and looking to his silver fox as he sat across from him. 

          “Store bought for the sake of sanity, neither of us are exactly able to nurse so formula would have to be the way to go, and anything but pink for the nursery…” Gregory listed off a few quick responses, grinning over to him and shrugging. “Hey, I’ve helped friends with their kids before and helped paint a couple of nurseries too. I hate pink, and cloth nappies sound great, but not so much with a flailing baby.” 

          “Sake of Sanity? Store bought can be rather expensive and they outgrow them so quickly, not to mention the idea of having to put those in a landfill somewhere just sounds awful. I do have a full service laundry and dry cleaning team, why not put it to good use?” Mycroft scrunched his nose, taking a bite of his food and humming in appreciation. 

          “I just mean if we’re out and there’s a blow out or something, that we have a few store bought ones on standby. We’ll figure it all out in time, love. Sure it’s helpful to see what works with Miles, but ours will still be our own, and most of it will be figured out in the moment. It will be an adventure.” 

          “I do get that neither of us can nurse, but we can always talk to Anthea and see if she would be willing to possible pump for a little while? I do know that breast milk is the best thing for the baby, and I would feel terrible depriving our child of that. I do agree that the hideous shade of pink that most people use is disgusting. Maybe a light red though, like a mauve, would be nice.” Nodding as he took another bite, he smiled to Gregory as the man gave him another look. 

          “I know breast is best as well, especially at first so they can get the colostrum and such, but I wouldn’t want to put strain on Anthea as well. It would probably be best to have it as a discussion with her, once the times comes around, and just make sure that she understands that we don’t in any way, expect her to be tethered to us through our baby. There’s plenty of reasons why mums put their child on formula, so it’s not like we’re doing a disservice by going either way. Isn’t mauve a purple? I could have sworn that was a light purple…” 

          “No, I don’t want her to feel obligated either. I think it would be best to discuss it with her. I know formula is good for them too, but it would be the perfect situation if we could give our little on the best of the best.” It was something neither of them would ever be able to do naturally, which made him feel a little less deserving, but it wasn’t something he could say out loud. “It’s like a grey pink, I thought. Bordering on purple, but still a light red.” He was almost certain, but then again, he wasn’t a designer or someone who had extensive knowledge on colours either. 

          “Light red is definitely pink, love,” Gregory chuckled, standing and grabbing his mobile before sitting back down. “Hey, for once I’m right about something. It is, in fact, a pale purple colour. Apparently it was also the first synthetic dye. This is why you go to the paint store and look at all the colour swatches and don’t just name a colour to paint a room in. I mean, mauve is a nice colour and all, but I think I would rather something different anyway.” 

          “Well, I may not be right about the name, but it still looks like a light red to me that has a grey undertone. It’s very warm and inviting, and I think, rather soothing. It’s not pink though, that colour is loud, irritating and very fake looking.” Mycroft handed the mobile back to his partner, his face scrunched as the thought of the hideous colour that most newborn clothes were sorted into. That loud, obnoxious shade of pink and blue. If anything, he preferred the more neutral of colours, wanting to keep things from being distressing to the little ones. 

          “I’m pretty sure you’re just describing what people would call Salmon, which is still pink.” 

          “No, I know what colour salmon is and that is not what I am describing, far from it actually,” Mycroft quipped, taking the other’s hand, but keeping his serious look as he tried to defend his colour choice. 

          “What about purple, or the light sage green? I like those colours, you just have to make sure it doesn’t get into that split pea colour family, that’s always the worst.” 

          “Sage reminds me too much of a little boys room, so maybe if we have a boy, but then again, all I can think of is dinosaurs, and I don’t want to force our child to like something just because that is all we give them to play with.” 

          “Hey, we still have plenty of time to decide all of that, so we don’t need to worry about it right now.” When the cry came through, Mycroft was just about to stand when Gregory beat him to it, placing a soft kiss on his lips. Smiling, he let him go and quickly cleaned up the kitchen, heading towards his office and stopping short at the door, listening to the man coo to the child. “Gregory… have you been speak only in French to him?” He asked surprised, raising his brow as he stepped into the room. With that nonsense, the child was never going to pick up on Latin, instead he would speak a mix of the three languages. 

          “I’ve obviously been speaking to him in English, too. I don’t know, I was always spoke to in French when I was a little kid, so it just comes out when I’m with babies,” Gregory apologised, kissing Miles on the nose and grinning when the boy starting giggling. “It’s not like I’m teaching him anything naughty, he’s a happy baby, aren’t you Miles?” Mycroft frowned, turning to the child and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek, the child leaning in and squealing at the affection. 

          “Sed si te Latina Gregori loquitur nisi quomodo umquam scire Latine,”  _ Yes, but if Gregory speaks anything but English to you, how will you ever learn Latin?  _ He asked the little one, his voice soft as he looked over to his partner, trying to prove a point, though it didn’t help as the man didn’t understand a word he had just said. He felt a bit foolish for thinking that Miles would learn his language and talk to him in it, especially now that he knew that Gregory had been using French with him. Kids had a natural ability to pick up on multiple languages, but pushing it this far, he would most likely end up speaking a chopped up slur of all three that only they could understand. 

          “You’ve been speaking to him in Latin,” Gregory shook his head in amusement. “We’re two of the weirdest uncles now, seeing as we don’t speak to him in English. Poor lad must get so confused, being a baby is hard, isn’t it? If you want to try and teach him Latin, have at it. I can always work on teaching him French later on, I’m sure.”

          “We are godparents, Gregory, not uncles.” He tried to correct the other, but couldn’t help the smile that spread across his lips as the child looked between the two of them. 

          “I know, but it feels weird to be called a god-dad when uncle works perfectly fine.” 

          “This poor child is going to have a very odd vocabulary, consisting of multiple languages, and no one is going to understand him when he mixes them all.” Mycroft chuckled, as they walked into the kitchen and Gregory started making dessert, fruit spread out over the counter. Taking a blueberry from Gregory’s reach and popping it into his mouth, Mycroft smiled as he moved and placed some fruit on the little ones tray where he sat in the highchair. Just then, a knock came from the door and Miles let out a shriek, knowing that his parents must be here. After a few moments After a few moments, Anthea and Ryan appeared in the kitchen, both having a key to the house to let themselves in. “Ecce parvulum sunt unusquisque matrem et patrem.”  _ Look little one, your mother and father are here.  _ Mycroft smiled, moving to say hello to them both. “I hope you enjoyed your date night.” 

          “It was wonderful, thank you to both of you for watching Miles for us tonight.” Ryan said as he shook their hands before crouching in front of his son, making faces at Miles and laughing as the boy happily waved two handfuls of squished fruit in his excitement. 

          “He’s been great. He was crashed out for a while and woke up maybe ten minutes ago, so sorry right now if that means the two of you won’t be getting any sleep tonight.” 

          “Nonsense. This little tyke sleeps through the night for the most part,” Anthea smiled, giving Gregory a kiss on the cheek and stealing a few slices of fruit before walking up to Mycroft. “Now, did I hear you speaking in Latin to him?” She looked up to him, a glare worthy to rival his own. 

          “Ann, don’t give him that look. I’ve heard you speak Gaelic with him when you don’t think I’m around,” Ryan chimed in, looking amused to the both of them. 

          “Gaelic?” Gregory asked in surprise, looking over to Anthea who simply shrugged and moved to sit down next to Ryan. “Yeah, between Gaelic and Latin, I’m definitely not going to feel guilty for singing him a few nursery rhymes in French. It’s what I grew up knowing them in anyway,” He chuckled. “It’ll be a race to the finish to see what language his first words come out in.” 

          “Well it’s a good thing I have him start on Mandarin then,” Ryan chuckled, taking a bit of fruit out of Anthea’s hand. Mycroft stared in disbelief, now feeling sad for Miles who was listening to so many different languages. Instead of just three, he was now learning five. Granted, the majority of the people in the room knew more than fifteen different ones, but they didn’t learn them all at once. 

          “Poor tyke, this must be so confusing for you.” He rubbed the child’s cheek, though he didn’t seem to care, just happy that there was attention for him to bask in. “It would take a scholar to be able to understand what Miles is saying when he does learn to talk, now that we are filling him with all sorts of nonsense,” 

          “The most common one he gets is English, so I’m sure he’ll learn that first, then have plenty of other odd words thrown around there from everyone else. I’m sure I will need a translator, not you all, once he does start mixing things around, but that’s what I have My for,” Gregory grinned, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “It just shows how loved he is, if you ask me, that everyone wants to teach him a little bit more.” 

           “Either than or we are thinking about our own wants,” Mycroft murmured, not feeling a bit of shame in admitting that he was one of them. They all moved to the table and looked with hungry eyes to the desert that Gregory had made, serving it up on plates and digging in, silence settling between them all as they enjoyed the taste. “Delightful as always,” He hummed, only taking a few bites before setting it aside, not wanting to ruin his diet. “What do you think Miles, or are you just having too much fun squishing your fruit instead of eating it?” Looking at the little one, he held out his fist which was covered in fruit, smiling as he shook it and got a few drops on the floor. Normally a mess like this would bother him, he was a very clean person, but when it was a child, that natural instinct to run and clean it up was overridden by his love and adoration for the little one. 

          “Just don’t give him any blueberries yet. Just because I know infant heimlich and CPR, doesn’t mean I want to use it, ever.” Gregory mumbled. 

          “Well, thank you for having Miles for the evening, I know you’ll both say it wasn’t a problem at all, but we both still greatly appreciate it.” Ryan said as they all finished their desert, fathering up their bags and setting his son on his hip once they had cleaned up. 

          “Of course! Though we’ll definitely have to get this language thing sorted out before his poor brain explodes.” Gregory laughed, looping an arm around his waist. “Any time we can though, it’s great to have an excuse to play with Miles.” 

          “Yes, anytime. We do love spending time with the little tot.” Leaning in, he placed a kiss on Miles’ cheek, then the same for Anthea and a handshake to Ryan. “Have a good rest of your evening, the both of you.” As they watched them leave, Mycroft shut the door and moved back to the kitchen, helping rinse off the dishes and set them in the dishwasher, then wiping down the counters and tables with a damp flannel. 

          “Why Mandarin and Gaelic? French and Latin are obvious choice between the two of us, but I can’t think of any connections between the other two with Ryan and Anthea.” 

          “Anthea has a fondness for Gaelic. She met Ryan in Scotland, though he was originally from Ireland. He had been living there with his family for some time, and this was when Gaelic was widely spoken,  during the 4th Century C.E, mind you. So that is why she adores the language, a bit of her romantic streak showing through. As for Ryan, I am not sure,” Mycroft chuckled, shaking his head and moving over to the other, standing between his legs and leaning in to press a chaste kiss to his lips. “When you know so many languages, you sometimes find one that speaks to you more than others, and it isn’t always the one you started with. All three of us know over fifteen languages, at least.” 

          “Wait, Ryan is Irish? But Davis doesn’t sound like a very Irish last name to me…” 

          “Love, Holmes doesn’t sound like a Roman name either. Last names didn’t exist until the middle ages, until then, we just went by our first names. When the time came around, we chose something appropriate to the region we lived in, which was Europe, so Davis and Holmes are very good, rather common last names.” Gregory seemed to take a moment to process the thought, tracing his fingers over his chest. 

          “Well, I’m content to have you as my own private translator at the moment.” He joked, tugging him closer to kiss him again. “I’m also content to have you as my own private everything. The little bickerings about the colour for the nursery, what to dress our own little one in, I want it all. Even if we disagree about a number of things, I’m sure once we sit down and actually sort it all out, we’ll agree on most. Until then, we have Miles to dote over and teach however many languages we can think of to talk to him in.” 

          “Your private translator, private government official, private father of your future child, private plaything…” Mycroft trailed off, looking down at the man in front of him, a sly grin playing across his lips. “We can sort all we want when the baby arrives, and like you said, we have Miles for now, but at the moment, I’d rather figure out things with you, and dote on you, if you don't mind,” He smiled, taking the man by the hand and leading him up the stairs, smiling as he shut the door behind them. 


	33. XXXII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry this was posted late, but awesome announcement, we are finally up to cannon era!!!! Hats off to a special website where someone has taken the time to type up the script from all the episodes, so that is saving us a lot of time, (http://arianedevere.livejournal.com/43794.html) but get ready, because next chapter starts Study in Pink! We plan on keeping pretty close to the cannon with S1 and S2, but S3 and S4 there will be some differences to keep it in line with our AU. Thank you guys for all your likes, comments and bookmarks, it really is what keeps us going with this!

          Greg sighed as he leaned both arms on the table, looking down at the pictures of the scene yet again. 

          “So, we know this man was here, but we just have to prove it. From a perfectly clean room.” He muttered, his frustration broken at the gurgling sound from Miles as Sherlock paced around the room with him on his hip. The little boy wouldn’t stop fussing in his arms, but after Sherlock demanded to see him, he had settled right down, and the detective seemed quite content to have him as well. If it hadn’t been impossible to sneak a photo without Sherlock noticing, Greg would have already done so and sent it to everyone he could. “I’ve had this case for three months now. I have these pictures nearly memorised. What am I missing?” 

          “What is missing from the second woman? The first Mary Morris, her wedding ring was gone, but what is missing from the second Mary? What would confirm that she was the correct person this time, something that the husband would recognise, but wouldn’t draw too much attention, something that we are missing!” Sherlock raised his voice, pacing the room and Miles answered with a matching frown and a grumbling complaints. Greg bit his lip to keep from laughing though he had the same frustrations as Sherlock. 

          “Miles, love,” He said after a moment, smiling over to the baby as he looked to him, grabbing Sherlock’s scarf and mouthing at it. “Nothing, that’s the thing. We knew from the start that it was a false suicide because she was beaten too recently and the angle of the shot was wrong. The husband was the last person to have known contact with her, but that was two hours beforehand and on her phone.” Greg sighed, pushing himself up from the table and running his hand through his hair with a sigh. “I don’t know. I really don’t.” 

          “Yes, but if this was a hit, and the first time it didn’t go right because they had the wrong Mary Morris, they would have had to take something from the second one to make sure that they had completed the job right.” Sherlock hissed, flipping through the pictures yet again. 

          “Gregory?” 

          “In here,” Greg called without turning. 

          “Really you two, exposing the poor child to images such as these?” He only looked up when Mycroft scolded them both for entertaining Miles while still working. 

          “We’re holding him while working, we’re not showing him them,” Greg defended them softly, frowning when Mycroft immediately took the boy away from his brother, only to be greeted by instantaneous complaints that quickly lead to a loud scream. “My, he wants Sherlock. He’s fine.” Greg winced at just how loud such a tiny child could be. “Why don’t we trade? Let Sherlock take Miles, you can look over at this case and see if there’s something we’re overlooking. I don’t know what we’re missing. Everything tells us that it’s the husband, but we have nothing to prove it with.” When Miles didn’t settle down and kept squirming and reaching for Sherlock, Mycroft finally gave in and handed him back to his brother, shooing them both before walking to his side. 

           “These are two different killers, two different modes of operation. The first completely destroys the victim beyond recognition, hence the use of fire. The second though, this seems a tad more personal. They got up close, as you can see with the beating, and the close entry for the gunshot. It may not necessarily be the killer who performs this way, but a request from the husband, as I am assuming from the paperwork and what you said, you suspect that he hired someone to kill his wife. I think he did the first time, but when they got it wrong, he didn’t trust the same person to do it again. The second person they hired was either a close friend or family member, or instructed to be up close and personal about it. The husband might have had a hand in identifying her as well, as they didn’t take anything as proof. What was the husband's alibi for that night?” 

          “A call to 999 while she was being attacked without any mention of her husband.” Greg sighed, looping an arm around Mycroft’s waist and leaning against his shoulder as he continued to study the crime scene photos. 

          “Yes, well just because she didn’t see him, does not mean he wasn’t there.” 

          “I don’t know,” Greg sighed after a minute, dragging a hand over his face before glancing out into the other room where Sherlock was continuing to pace with Miles, talking softly to the boy and pausing to let him babble back in their own little conversation. “My, look,” He said softly, smiling at the scene before leaning up to kiss Mycroft’s cheek. “Sherlock’s good with him. Great really, even if he still has to be vaguely Sherlock about the whole thing and pretend like he doesn’t care.” He chuckled, kissing Mycroft again as a proper welcome home. “Happy anniversary love. I know we have plans for dinner, I was hoping Sherlock and I could get some sort of break on this case. It’s been puzzling us both for a while now. Miles just wanted Sherlock’s attention so he picked him up. Wasn’t like we were sitting here showing him pictures of everything. Now come on. Let’s get this sorted out and get ready for tonight.” 

          “I don’t worry about you showing pictures like this to Miles, but I don’t trust Sherlock. He doesn’t seem to know why an action like that could be damaging. Just because he saw some things as a child, he assumes it is okay for all children. I’m not saying that Roman children can handle it better, or that it was okay to bring your child to gladiator fights, or hangings, executions, or crucifixions… but Sherlock is far different than normal children as his mind doesn’t work like others.” Mycroft sighed, looking back at the two in the other room. Greg blanched slightly as he talked about what ancient Rome had been like, a part of him having known that was what was considered to be entertainment back then, but there was still a measure of horror that went along with the confirmation that children came along to see it as well. 

          “I trust him. Not with everything, but I trust that he knows that Miles is important, and I trust him to take care of him.” Greg said softly, not wanting a fight, but not wanting another one to start between the brothers either. 

          “As for your case, you are looking for two different men. I would look into the husband's trust alibi, as well as his phone records, bank transactions and credit statements. He won’t be dumb enough to pay for it outright, so also look for large withdrawals, or large transfers to another account.” 

          “We’ve pulled the bank transactions, but we can’t find anything that we can point at and say, ‘this is a payment to someone’. There was a hundred pounds withdrawn a few times over a couple of weeks, but we can’t prove anything with it.” Greg muttered, hating that this case was going cold in front of him, no matter what he tried to do. 

          “He would have to get in contact with these people somehow. There would be a phone record, internet search, something that can trace him to contacting them. You have probable cause, and I’m sure the judge can grant you a warrant to search both his home, computer and phone. I know it’s not a solution, but it’s somewhere to start,” Mycroft sighed, kissing him on his cheek. “Now, I’m going to go change, as we have reservations in an hour, and I think I’m in need of a shower. If Sherlock is going to be here a while longer, maybe you would like to join me?” The D.I. grunted in reply as Mycroft talked about getting warrants to search everything, not wanting to say that he already had done that but searching through it again without the idea of having the same hitman, might bring something up. Greg’s growing frustration was blasted away though, when Mycroft mentioned having a shower and leaving the baby with Sherlock, giving a playful glare back at him before quickly putting all the photos away and making a few quick notes to the side. Checking on the younger Holmes and Miles, Greg chuckled to see that Sherlock was finding himself rather pinned down by a nearly asleep baby on his shoulder. 

          “I do trust you with him, you know. Anthea’ll be here in a half hour to pick him up.” He explained, Sherlock pulling a face when he heard the shower start and he quickly pieced together Greg’s not so secret plans. “Hey, if you didn’t want to deduce it, then you shouldn’t have. Can’t blame me, I didn’t say anything.” Greg laughed, brushing a hand lightly over his godson’s head before making his way upstairs and carefully slipping into the shower after having quickly undressed in the bedroom. “Hello my love,” 

          “My heart,” Mycroft turned around in his arms, looking down to him with those cool blue eyes. Greg was more than content to let those hands, mouth, and words push all his stress from this case aside for the night, wanting it to just be about them. After all, it was their anniversary, and not matter how much he loved Miles and cared about Sherlock, he selfishly wanted to have the night to himself with Mycroft. Though really, who could blame him? Moaning into the kisses and his partner’s touch, Greg felt like putty as he was pulled up against the other man’s body. “I love you, more than life itself. Happy anniversary my moon and stars,” 

          “Happy anniversary meum sol,” Greg whispered back, a smirk on his lips as he had made sure to look up how to say that correctly as a gift to his partner. He did his absolute best to swallow down the surprised squeak that tried to work its way out at the shock of the cold tiles against his back, though Mycroft did a good job of distracting him from the temperature difference as he worked him over with his mouth. 

          “Te amo, et lunam et stellas,”  _ I love you my moon and stars,  _ “God, my love, I want you, I need you my heart.” Knowing it wasn’t exactly what his partner had in mind, but not wanting to be shifting around awkwardly in a fancy restaurant, Greg reached down between them to wrap his hand around Mycroft’s prick, giving it a few lazy strokes as he caught the other’s mouth with his own. 

          “You have me, always, love.” Greg moaned, his free hand gripping tight at Mycroft’s shoulders to keep him close. It was only a few seconds before those elegant fingers wrapped around him, matching his pace, and those lips tracing along his neck, nibbling down his shoulder, over his collarbone, their moans growing louder as they worked each other over. 

          “Please, Gregory, my heart… please.” 

          “I have you, My. Let go,” Greg breathed, his head pressed back against the tile wall from where Mycroft had been leaving little bite marks along his skin that he always wished he could keep. Biting down on his lip as Mycroft twisted his hand just right around the head of his cock, it only took a minute longer before Greg was gasping out his name as he came in strong pulses over Mycroft’s fingers, doing his best to bring his lover to finish as well. Gasping as he felt him falter and finally fall over the edge, Greg held the man close as he let the shower wash the worst of the mess off his hand before wrapping him in a tight hug. “I love you so, so damn much.”

          “I love you as well my heart,” Mycroft pulled back with a smile. “Now, we should probably wash up, get dressed and head to the restaurant.” 

          After cleaning themselves up, Greg dressed in a nice jacket and a red tie to match his partner’s outfit, which was of course a three piece bespoke suit. It wasn’t disgustingly matchy when it’s your anniversary, or at least that’s what Greg told himself to keep from being that person he liked to mock in his head when he saw couples wearing the same outfit out in the park together.  

          “You look delicious Gregory,” Mycroft walked over, running his hands over his jacket and smiling. “I’m sure Sherlock is dying to have someone take the little one off his hands. Shall we go relieve him?” 

          “Last I saw Miles was asleep, but Anthea should be here any time now, so we can see them all off together.” He smiled, giving Mycroft one last long kiss before sneaking one onto his nose with a laugh. “You’re stuck with that always and forever,” Greg laughed, leading the way downstairs and checking in the living room to find Sherlock flipping through the channels on the telly in annoyance, Miles still tucked into his shoulder sound asleep. “If I didn’t want to be the next murder case for the Yard to solve, I’d absolutely take a picture of the two of you right now.” 

          “You know if you didn’t announce the fact, you might be able to sneak one without him knowing, my dear,” Mycroft chuckled, giving him a kiss on the cheek before his phone started to ring. “I’m sorry love, I’ll be right back. It must be something from work, though I’m not sure what they would need at this time of night.” Greg frowned as he watched Mycroft step away, considering for a moment to follow him into his office, though he elected against it and chose to sit beside Sherlock and gingerly take Miles into his arms to give the other a break. 

          “I’ll pull a wider time frame on the phone calls from the husband and see if we can find any sort of pattern to try and catch who did these murders.” Greg explained as Sherlock turned off the telly, sitting still as he not so subtly worked to listen in on his brother’s phone call. 

          “One of his little war games backfired and now he’s having to face it,” Sherlock muttered, the hint of a smile appearing at the fact that his brother had failed at something, though it disappeared from sight when he glanced over at Greg. 

          “Not a good thing, Sherlock. People die when that happens.” Greg pointed out a bit sharply, rubbing his hand along Miles’ back as he sighed and prayed this wouldn’t ruin their night out. After a few moments, Mycroft came back and he knew immediately that their night would have to be canceled when he saw the man’s face. Pressing a soothing kiss to the sleeping tot’s head, he was glad that Miles was blissfully unaware of what was going on around him. “My?” Greg asked gently, not about to ask him flat out what had happened, knowing that would get them nowhere. 

          “You promised! You promised, Mycroft!” Sherlock yelled as he jumped up from the sofa, a single glance at his brother telling him everything he need to know as he started backing away. “You said you would keep him safe!” 

          “Sherlock,” Greg did his best to soothe everyone, though it was growing hard now that Miles had jerked awake at the loud noises surrounding him and was starting to wail on his shoulder. Shushing the infant he stood and tried to bounce him, looking between the two brothers. It only took him a moment to realise what could have happened. “Mycroft…” 

          “I did try Sherlock, this was an ambush, nothing we could have predicted.” Mycroft’s voice was shaky as he reached a hand out to his brother. “I’m so terribly sorry. He’s been rushed to Germany, and the wound is not life threatening. I know it’s not comforting, but he was shot in the shoulder, nowhere vital… Sherlock… maybe you should go to him,” 

          “Don’t.” Sherlock hissed as Mycroft moved towards him. “Don’t you dare try to make this better.” With that, Sherlock was out the door, the loud slam shaking the pictures hanging on the wall and sending Miles into another hard wail. 

*****

          “Please, God, let me live,” John wheezed as he grasped at his shoulder, a tiny part of him wondering just how bad the pain really was if this was the amount that his body was allowing him to feel through the shock that was already clouding his brain. It was supposed to be a quiet night in, a movie night with his Major, followed by a full twenty four hours off together before either of them had to report back to duty. A mortar had nearly landed inside the base sending everyone scrambling to positions. John grabbed his gun and didn’t give two shits if he was supposed to be in a peaceful position. If his hospital was under attack, he was going to defend it with his men. He had seen the aftermath of these sorts of ambushes before, both patching men up and simply getting his fellow soldiers to talk again after a firefight, but John had never been in the middle before. He couldn’t die.. He couldn’t, he had to take care of his men. 

          “John!” Gasping as he felt someone touch him, his body somehow numb and over responsive at the same time, John hear the voice call to him. Forcing his eyes open to see James looking down at him with such fear, he almost laughed to try and wave it off like it was nothing. 

          “Only a flesh wound,” He offered weakly, his attempt failing completely as his body decided to try and relax a bit, only to send a new shock of pain through him as he clenched his jaw and tightening his grip onto his Major’s hand. “Th-the others. How many?” John forced out as he did what he could to keep from hyperventilating from the pain, pressing his head back tight against the bed he had been placed on as soon as he had been brought in.

          “Don’t worry about the other’s John, you need to worry about yourself right now, it’s going to be alright, they are going to take care of you, I promise.” One of the nurses on duty, Murray, a good lad, jogged over with a set of bandages and a large shot of morphine, only glancing at his Major and his Captain’s hands together for a moment before returning his attention to what needed to be done to save the doctor’s life. 

          “Hold him still, Sir. This will help.” John tried his best to be a good patient, knowing that the morphine really did help with the pain, though in this case, it simply kept him from passing out. Nothing was precisely measured in this kind of a situation, just enough to not kill anyone worse than their wounds already could, and get them stable enough to transport them out to larger hospitals. Stitching his shoulder back together wouldn’t fix all of it, but it would keep him from bleeding out until they could get another surgeon in and get him into surgery along with everyone else. 

          “I’m so sorry, John. We were supposed to have a nice night, this was not supposed to happen.” James leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to his forehead. 

          “Just stay here,” John whispered, knowing he was covered in a thin sheen of sweat from the pain as he looked back up at the other, wanting desperately to comfort him though he knew it was impossible. “I just have to get better, then we can have our night. It’s… it’s going to be okay.” 

          “Yes, yes… you’re going to get better. I know you will, you will pull through this. Just think of the night we did have, try and remember that, try and think of how you felt then. Hopefully that might make you forget what’s happening now,” John tightened his hold as a loud, ear splitting bang went off outside, shaking the ground. A soft whimper escaped him as just how helpless he felt through it all, not being able to be one of the people running around, being useful. 

          “I’m right here, John. I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise.” 

          “Sir, go. They need you out there,” John whispered, his eyes darting to the side as a wounded soldier was rushed by them missing a leg. John thought he was going to be sick as he forced himself to look back at his Major. 

          “No, John… I’m not going to leave you.” There was another loud bang and someone else was rushed into the medic ward, the nurses scurrying about. 

          “James. Go.” John tried to say a bit stronger this time around, lifting his hand to his lips in a weak kiss before forcing himself to let go. He didn’t want to be alone, but there was nothing else that could be done here. 

          “I will come back for you, I will see you through this, you hear me. I promise,” James leaned in and gave him a kiss on the lips, lingering for a moment. Watching him go was harder than John would ever admit. 

          The attack went on for another hour until the last of the bullets rang out, leaving no clear victor and only the wounded to tend to. John trusted his team, though, knowing that they could run without him until they were able to bring in another doctor to lead, carrying out what emergency surgeries they could and stabilising others until they could be tended to. It was late in the evening when John woke up from his own surgery, his entire left side covered in bandages and blanketed in the disorienting comfort of narcotics to keep his pain at bay. Licking his lips a few times to work at wetting his horribly dry mouth, John took a minute to figure himself out before looking around, a tiny smile pulling at his lips at the sight of his Major tucked uncomfortably into a folding chair in the corner of his curtained off ‘room’, his uniform still covered in dust and grime from the battle earlier on and his eyes closed though he was clearly nowhere close to sleeping. 

          “Sir,” James opened his eyes almost instantly, standing and moving to his side and taking his hand to kiss his knuckles. 

          “You’re alright soldier, you’re going to be just fine.” John’s eyes drifted shut again as he felt James’ lips on his hand, not quite ready to fall asleep so soon after coming to, but everything felt like too much effort at the moment. No doubt that was the blood loss talking. 

          “Thirsty,” He complained after a moment, laughing weakly and shaking his head as soon as he felt his Major move to get him a cup of water. “It’s… something. I don’t know. Don’t worry about it. I’ll get…. I’ll get better then we’ll be out there again.” John said softly, his voice still weak from exhaustion, and the painkillers he was hooked up to at the moment. “Were you hurt?” He asked, doing his best to look over the man beside him, trying to sit up and failing miserably. 

          “John,” James sighed, pressing gently on his chest to get him to lay back down. “Listen, they won’t let you come back, not like this. It’s not my decision, but I know they will send you home.” John shook his head as James told him that he was going to be sent home, still in denial about just how bad he had actually been injured. It was just a gunshot wound, he patched men up with them all the time. Just some time off, let it heal, then right back at it, that was all. 

          “They can’t send me back, this is what I do,” He argued softly, squeezing his Major’s hand in his before looking up at him once more. 

          “I will write to you, I will. Any chance I get for a leave, I will come and see you, and you can count on it that once I have returned from duty, I will find you again. I am not giving up on you soldier,”

          “James, stop. It’ll be… it’ll be fine. These are our men,” John tried to say that he wouldn’t just be sent away after being injured, but he couldn’t find the words he wanted through his muddled brain. “I’ll be here with you.”  

          “You’re a medic, John. A doctor. You aren’t meant to get injured, or be shot at. You’ve already been on tour for four years, they won’t let you stay.” The man moved in closer, crouching next to his bed so he could press his forehead to him. “I’m so sorry John, this wasn’t supposed to happen. We were supposed to have our night, to watch a film together, even if we both knew we wouldn’t actually watch it… and after, we could have done so much more, spent the whole day together, just you and I, soldier,” John sighed as he listened to James, knowing he was right. None of this was ever supposed to have happened, but he would still fight it. He wasn’t supposed to get hurt in an attack on base. If anything, it should have happened on one of his good will missions he had dragged James on, helping out the locals with coughs and wellness checks, making friends and finding translators for them. They had even invited a handful of children onto base to have a football match with some of the other lads. All the times he had set himself up to be hurt, and it was when everything had been taken out of his control. 

          “The next time you have leave, then.” John murmured, smiling over at his Major as he did his best to shift over enough to kiss him. “We’ll have our night then.” 

          “I will wait for you, John.” 

*****

          John was taken to Germany, and the next couple of weeks seemed rather lonely and disorienting without the man on base. The camp was starting to look like its old self again, things put back together and the majority of the mess that had been created having been since cleaned away. It might have been a bit too much, but James had put in an order for leave to visit the hospital in Germany where his troops had been taken, saying he wanted to visit them all. Granted, he would stop in for appearances sakes on his men, but the real reason was to be with John again before he was sent back home to England. Signing the last of the paperwork before the standing Major took his place for the weekend, James packed the last of his things and headed to the airbase, ready to get on a plan that would take him closer to where his heart resided. 

          James did a quick tour through the hospital wing, visiting with his men and telling them that when they were ready, he’d be glad to have them back, the ones that could come back that was. Unfortunately, that list didn’t include the one person he wanted more than anything. After a few hours in the infirmary, James said his goodbyes and made his way to the front desk to get the room number where John was staying. He hadn’t told the man he would be coming to visit, as he wanted it to be a surprise. His whole body thrummed with excitement that they could spend one last night together before the man was back in England, and it would be years before he could do something like this again. Taking a deep breath, James stood there for a few moments, worrying his lower lip, his hands raised and ready to knock, but for some reason he hesitated. Would this be okay? Or would it make it harder to leave him again? Deciding he didn’t care, that having one more night with John Watson was worth it, James finally knocked three times, bringing his hands back behind him and standing at attention, waiting for the other to answer. It took a moment for the door to open, but there he was, and the poor man looked like an absolute mess, like he hadn’t slept in days, hadn’t eaten a proper meal, nothing. 

          “Sir. I… what are you doing here?” John stammered out, attempting to salute, but only knocking his cane down to the floor and letting out a few colourful curses. Moving quickly to grab the man’s cane, he held it out to the other as he looked him over. 

          “May I come in doctor?” He knew John wouldn’t say no, but he wanted to keep up appearances until they were alone together. Stepping past the man, he watched as John followed him, limping along with the use of his cane. No one had told him things had got this bad. “John, please… let me order food. You need to eat, I can tell you have been neglecting yourself. None of this is your fault. Let me help you, please… I want to.” James moved to stand closer to the man, reaching out to place a hand on John’s good shoulder. This hadn’t been his original plan, but he couldn’t help but want to care for him, as his heart ached to see him like this. 

          “I’m fine…” John muttered, looking away from him. 

          “John,” There wasn’t any pity, just compassion for the man in front of him, a desperate need to take care of him one last time. 

          “Sir,” 

          “Please, for me. Let me take care of you, because I want to. Who knows when I will get a chance like this again,” With that, he leaned in slowly, giving the man plenty of time to pull away before pressing his lips to the others, that spark and fire coming back to him that he had the first night this had happened. After a few seconds, he pressed in closer, turning the kiss into a bit more desperate as he poured everything into it, wanting John to see that he cared, and this wasn’t some pity visit and then he would move on to bigger and better things. John was his something bigger and better. The cane clattered to the ground and John wrapped his good arm around his waist, holding him close. 

          “Don’t go,” Pressing the man against the entertainment center, or dresser, or whatever it was, he moved to have John sit on top, sliding between his legs and pressing kisses over and over again to those lips. 

          “I’m not going anywhere, John. I told you I would come back to you, that we would have our day together. All I want to do is take care of you, to make you feel good. Will you let me do that soldier?” He questioned, putting a little authority in his tone as he looked down to the shorter man. Those blue eyes looking back up at him, a storm behind them that he wanted to clear. Leaning in, he pressed a tender, lingering kiss to those lips, trying to show him that it wasn’t out of pity, but from something more. He would dare to call it love, but that was hardly appropriate to say aloud, especially as they had only done this once before. 

          “I’m not a soldier anymore, James. I’ve been discharged. I’m just a civilian now.” John whispered, leaning back to give him more access. “I was supposed to take care of you, make sure you remembered to eat and not get lost in your piles of paperwork.” 

          “You will always be a soldier in my eyes, Watson.” James gave a knowing smirk, hoping to lift the man’s spirits just a bit. Leaning into the other’s touch, James closed his eyes, smiling as he felt the other on his skin. “Yes, well sometimes the roles get reversed in life. You have done an outstanding job with that, John, so let me do the same for you.” He was getting out of piles of paperwork just by being here, having left that for the Major who was standing in for him at the moment. Looking to the other for confirmation, he waited until John nodded before slipping his hands under the hem of his plain grey t-shirt, his hands roaming over the man’s toned body. 

          “Come here,” John whispered, removing his sling and helping as James took off his shirt. His eyes went to the bandages that covered the man’s wound, nothing like what he had seen the first day, but it was still healing, a hole like that would take quite some time to heal over completely. Leaning in, he pressed a reverent kiss to his shoulder, as gentle as he could be. 

          “John,” His voice was soft as he looked up at the other again, those hands running over his skin. “I didn’t want to assume, I’d rather ask, but may I stay here tonight? I want to spend the last day with you before you go back home.” Honestly, if the man said no, he wasn’t sure what he would do, he’d have to find somewhere to stay, as he hadn’t planned ahead. 

          “Don’t go,” John chuckled, nodding as he smiled to him. Another fire lit up in his veins as the man nodded and repeated that he didn’t want him to leave. Leaning in and claiming the other as his own, tasting, teasing and loving, James marked the man for himself. After a few moments, he reached down and started on his own outfit, far more elaborate than what John had been wearing, as it was his Major outfit that he wore daily. He quickly ridded himself of the belt around his waist, unbuttoning the jacket and tossing it to the side and slipping out of his vest. Pressing up against the other, feeling his skin against his own, John let out a soft moan. “The bed will be more comfortable for the both of us,” 

          “While I have just tonight, I want to savour and enjoy every last bit of this. I was thinking we could start with a warm shower first. Soft and sweet, then we can move to the bed.” Kissing the man’s jaw and over his neck, James ran his hands over John’s back before moving to the front and undoing the man’s trousers, undoing his as well and toeing off his shoes as he stepped out of the fabric. Carefully wrapping an arm around the man’s waist, he lifted him enough to slide his trousers down around his arse, so he could then just lift the man’s legs. When they were both just there in their boxers, James wrapped the man’s legs around his waist and placed his hands on John’s arse, lifting him up and walking him towards the bathroom. 

          “Never knew you to be so flowery,” John teased, a true smile returning to the man’s lips. “You’ve been training with the lads?”

          “Keep it up Watson and I’ll drop you,” He teased, giving the other a playful glare as he walked them towards the bathroom, setting John down and moving to turn on the water and check the temperature. “You know that I had to go through boot camp as well, John. Just because I don’t work with you lads all day long, doesn’t mean that I don’t keep up with the same routine.” He chuckled, helping the other out of his boxers and slipping his off as well so they could move under the water. Letting John stay under the stream, James smiled as he looked down to the other, running his hands over the man’s arms, and reaching up to run them through the other’s hair, getting it wet and massaging his scalp. 

          “Should have snuck out long ago if you were going to give me a massage like this,” Chuckling, James reached for the shampoo, lathering it over the man’s scalp and then rinsing it out, running his hands over his cheek as he smiled. 

          “Don’t get too comfortable, I’m not always this gentle.” Fact was, he hadn’t done anything like this in a long time, and when he had, it was awkward fumbling in grade school, nothing like this. He had always known he was attracted to men, which left him few choices in school, but it didn’t mean he hadn’t been attracted to a woman once… His eyes traced down, looking to the scar that had started to form on the man’s shoulder, his thumb brushing lightly over the small bump. John stiffened under his attention, but to reassure him, James bent forward and placed a soft kiss there, pulling back slowly and holding the man’s gaze. 

          “I love you,” Freezing, his eyes went wide as he heard those words, at least he thought he did… 

          “Did you just…” His voice was soft, shaky as he looked to the other. The look on John’s face just confirmed everything he thought he had heard, igniting something deep within him. Leaning in, he claimed the other’s mouth, pressing him against the cool tile, still careful not to hurt the man’s shoulder. “John, I want you, I need you, I don’t want to think about living without you, all I care about is this moment, right now. I love you John Watson,” He whispered between gasps, his hands moving to the man’s hips, pressing hard enough that he could leave bruises, his plans for taking things slow now blown out the window with those three simple words. 

          “James, you have me. All that I can give you, I’ll give to you,” He didn’t want to wait any longer for this. Sod the shower, he wanted John, and he didn’t want to wait. Lifting the other up again, he quickly shut off the water and carefully made their way off the tile, making sure John grabbed a towel on their way out. Tossing it on the bed, James carefully lowered the other to the bed, crawling over top of him and licking his lips, desire coursing through his veins. Leaning down, he nibbled on the man’s ear, trailing his hot breath over John’s neck. 

          “Well Captain Watson, I have a few orders for you, do you think you can follow them?”

          “I aim to please, Sir.” 

          “Good soldier. Now you need to make a decision,” He had to pause for a moment, not wanting to laugh and spoil the moment. “Are you going to lie on your back and take it like a man, or would you rather show me what the military has taught you, and give it to your Major from above?” He knew there were only a few positions he knew that John could work with, without hurting his shoulder, and he did worry that even on his back or riding him from above would put strain on him. After a few moments when John just smiled, James decided to show he was serious about continuing the commanding officer game. “Soldier, I asked you a question. It would be wise to answer to your commanding officer. Now, on your back or riding me till I see stars?” 

          “Next time, Sir. Once I am stronger. I want to have you Sir. Just the two of us, James, like it was before. One more night before we have to go.”

          “As you wish soldier,” James smiled, leaning down and placing a bit more of his weight on the other, grinding their hips together and letting out a soft gasp. Licking a stripe up the other’s neck, he kissed the man’s jaw, loving the feel of the man shivering beneath him. “John, I want to give it all to you, to make this night unforgettable so that when we are miles apart, countries apart, this will remind you that I will still be waiting for you.” Dipping down for one last kiss, James crawled back, reaching into his pocket from his discarded jacket and grabbing the small packet of lube he brought with him for this occasion. Slicking up his fingers, James ran his hand down across the man’s cleft, pressing against his entrance, but not pushing in, not yet. 

          “Didn’t want to assume yet you came prepared, Sir? Don’t tease, James, I’ve wanted you for too long to be patient anymore,” 

          “Keep up the teasing yourself and I will drag this out for as long as I can,” James chuckled, watching as the man practically squirmed beneath him. After a few moments, he pressed his finger in the other, groaning at the face that John made and the heat that he knew would soon be wrapped around him. “God, John, you are so tight.” Curling his finger round, he searched for that sweet spot, knowing exactly when he found it as the man’s back arched off the bed, a cry spilling from his lips. Smiling, he pulled back and pressed his finger in again, managing to skirt over that spot once more. 

          “Christ, James, fuck,” John moaned, his eyes drifting partially shut before he clenched his muscles around his fingers. “I may not be able to ride you, Sir, but I still have my tricks. I’ll still make you see stars before you’ve even gotten halfway to finishing,” John breathed, rocking his head to the side. “My honest, brave and kind Major. Take me like you wanted to that first night. You’re not my commanding officer anymore, we don’t have to be scared of being caught or of what the other men will say. It’s been too long to be patient.” The noises that came from the man beneath him were intoxicating, every gasp, every moan that he drew from those lips only pushed him further. Locking eyes with the other, he gave John a small smirk before pushing his finger in with a bit more force, curling it around and skirting it over the sweet spot inside, watching and raptured by the expression he saw blossom on the man’s face. 

          “No worries soldier, I’m not afraid to show you that even if I am not your commanding officer anymore, I can still take command and show you that I will always be in charge.” He chuckled, lightly pressing against the spot yet again. 

          “Sir, James, please. I want you, I need you.” Ignoring that pleading voice, James continued to open the man up, slowly pressing in digit after digit till he knew John was ready. He may like to take control and be rough, but hurting the other was never an option. After yet another brush against that sweet spot with three fingers all curled nicely inside, he could hear the desperation in John’s voice as he went from calling him ‘Sir’ to his name. Leaning down, he placed a gentle kiss on the man’s lips, pulling his hand back and reaching for the packet of lube again. 

          “Hush, John. you have me now, and will always have me.” Slicking himself up, he lined his prick to the man’s entrance, looking down at the other as he slowly pushed himself in, inch by aching inch, watching as the expression changed on the man’s face. “God you are so hot, soldier.” 

          “Christ Sir…. James… Just like that,” Kissing the man back with passion, he pulled back, panting as he started to move within the other, groaning deep as he felt the slide of that heat alone his prick. 

          “God, John,” James hissed, pressing his forehead into the crick of the man’s neck, peppering kisses over the man’s hot skin. “Talk to me soldier, tell me exactly what you want to do for your commanding officer, what you want your commanding officer to do to you.” Growling, he started to snap his hips a tad faster, loving the slide of skin and the sweet, sweet heat wrapped around him. Changing the angle of his hips, he kept moving till he found the right position to drag against the man’s prostate with every thrust. 

          “James,” John cried, dragging his blunt nails down his back. “This, I want this. To feel you even after you’re gone, to have my name on your lips when you’re back there fighting. I want to be able to ride you, and take you too so you feel the same. I want everything… God, James, I’m so close...” 

          “Your name will always be the one I shout when I’m fighting… you are what I am fighting for, to come back home for soldier,” Shuddering as he felt that heat grow in his groin, his pace started to grow a bit more erratic the longer he kept it up. “John, do one last thing for me as your commanding officer. I want you to come, John. Now, soldier,” James growled, trying to snap his hips harder than he had before and reaching down with a shaky hand between them, wrapping his fingers around that lovely cock and pulling it in time with their movements. 

          “You as well Sir. I want everything I can have from you, everything you can give me. I love you, I love you Sir. I love you James.” If the feeling of John falling apart beneath him, around him, and hearing that lovely voice whimper and whine as he did so wasn’t enough to finish him off, listening to John tell him that he loved him over and over again was. His hips stalled after a few more thrusts, a rough groan dragged from his lips as he buried his face in the man’s shoulder, his pleasure ripping through his body. After a few moments, he relaxed, pressing a few open mouthed kisses to the other’s throat, gingerly pulling out and laying next to him, his arm slung possessively over John’s waist. 

          “I love you as well, John.” Voice ragged, and breathing still uneven, James lay there, trying to bring himself back down. John ran his hand over his arm before lifting his hand to kiss the inside of his wrist. 

          “Maybe we should have that shower now,” letting out a soft chuckle at the mention of it, James nodded, smiling as he looked to the other, but making no attempt to actually move them. “And if you really want to order something for takeaway, then I’m sure I can find the appetite to eat for you. It’s not quite the leave I was expecting to share, but… in a way, I like this more, I think.” 

          “Takeaway and a film sound lovely John,” Leaning in, he pressed a sweet kiss to the man’s forehead, grunting as he brought himself to sit up, sighing as he knew they should really get washed up. 

          “I can be a home for you in London the next time you’re on leave. You can have an excuse to leave the desert now… I’ll be here for you, like I always have been. I promise.” Just as he was about to stand, he stopped, taking a moment before looking down at the other. 

          “It won’t be an excuse, John. It would be a privilege.” His voice was soft as he helped the man sit up, bringing a hand to cup his cheek and pressing a kiss to the man’s lips, trying to show him how much that had meant. John held onto him a little longer before nodding and moving to the side of the bed, reaching out for his hand. Steadying him as they made their way towards the shower, he knew it was going to be different now, they both knew that, but… they were both horribly stubborn. They would make it work somehow. 


	34. XXXIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big shoutout to http://arianedevere.livejournal.com/ where they have the entire script of the series typed up! Without you, this would have take far longer than it should have! You are fantastic!

          There were times that he thought that Lestrade might not be as idiotic as the rest of his team, but he was starting to lean the other way listening to the absolutely idiotic message the man was giving during the press conference on a recent string of apparent suicides. Frowning, Sherlock focused on the telly, already typing out a mass text message to all of those attending the meetings, his finger hovering over the send button, waiting for the right moment to prove the man wrong. 

          “There’s no link been found yet, but we’re look for it. There has to be one.” Send. Chuckling lightly, Sherlock smirks as he watches everyone check their message, Donovan speaking up telling everyone to ignore him, and one brave reporter just stating that all he wrote was ‘wrong.’ It didn’t take long for Lestrade to make his next mistake and he sent the same message again, and the man was starting to get annoyed. It was what he deserved if he was going to be so dense, and seriously, who gave an answer like, ‘Well don’t commit suicide.” That was rather obvious and if the audience and those of London didn’t know that, then they deserved their fate. “Obviously this is a frightening time for people, but all anyone has to do is exercise reasonable precautions. We are all as safe as we want to be.” Rolling his eyes, Sherlock switches off the telly and sent out one last message stating ‘wrong,’ before stepping out of his flat and heading towards St. Barts, hoping there was something more interesting there. 

> **_You know where to find me. -SH_ **

          Arriving at the hospital and making his way down to the morgue, Sherlock walked quickly over to the body bag that Molly had laid out for him, unzipping it and looking at the corpse inside, taking a deep breath and sniffing the air. 

          “How fresh?” He didn’t even bother to look up, he knew that Molly would answer him. 

          “Just in. Sixty-seven, natural causes. He used to work here. I knew him. He was nice.” Zipping the bag back up, he stood straight and gave her a tight smile. This would be perfect. 

          “Fine, we’ll start with the riding crop.” It didn’t take long to move the body out of the bag and have it lying on its back on the table. Riding crop in hand, he repeatedly flogged the body, his features scrunched up as he imagined his brother, letting his anger and frustration out. He still hadn’t forgave Mycroft for everything that had happened with John, and though he would never say it, he was still aching inside, desperate to know what had happened to John, though he refused to go to his brother for answers. 

          “So, bad day, was it?” Ignoring the small talk, Sherlock got out a notebook and started writing down notes and observations, anything that might pertain to the case he was currently working. 

          “I need to know what bruises form in the next twenty minutes. A man’s alibi depends on it. Text me.” 

          “Listen, I was wondering: maybe later, when you’re finished.” Looking back up, he glanced over to Molly as he continued to write, his features pulling into a small frown. 

          “Are you wearing lipstick? You weren’t wearing lipstick before.” 

          “I, er, I refreshed it a bit.” Odd. He wasn’t aware that Molly cared that much about her look, or that there was someone she was trying to impress. Shrugging, Sherlock went back to writing in his notebook, his eyes moving between the corpse and the pad. 

          “Sorry, you were saying?” 

          “I was wondering if you’d like to have coffee.” Putting away the notebook, he straightened his suit and looked to Molly, his features straight. 

          “Black, two sugars, please. I’ll be upstairs.” With that, he walked out, headed towards the lab, ready to get on with yet another experiment he had going. Standing at the far end, Sherlock concentrated as he squeezed a few drops of liquid onto the Petri dish he had set up, furrowing his brows as he heard a knock at the door. Now who was deciding to bother him? He had already stated to the interns that he was to be left alone, and most were too afraid to cross him, yet here was someone knocking at his door. Looking up, his heart stopped as he laid eyes on the man walking behind Mike. “John…” He whispered quietly, not loud enough that either would have noticed. Looking down quickly, he sat on the stool and decided he needed a way to navigate this situation, being very out of touch with first encounters with his partner. Obviously John was alright, he was here, of all places, but why? Surely this couldn’t be Mycroft’s doing, Mike would never succumb to his brother’s bribes, so… something else. “Mike, can I borrow your phone? There’s no signal on mine.” 

          “And what’s wrong with the landline?” 

          “I prefer to text.” 

          “Sorry. It’s in my coat.” Inconvenient and not helpful whatsoever. 

*****

          John had been surprised to see Mike again after so long, surprised even that he had remembered him, even though they had been good friends in Uni. After talking over coffee and going back to the hospital they had trained in to see a ‘friend’ that was also looking for a flatmate, and was just as equally hard to find someone to pair with… well, that would either be a brilliant match or end in flames. Raising an eyebrow at the lanky man, who was handsome in his own way, but ordered Mike to use his mobile, John shrugged before digging in his pocket to pull out his own. 

          “Er, here. Use mine.” Handing it off to the man, he looked over to his friend for some sort of introduction, confused as the other didn’t seem like a lab tech but he obviously had access and permission to be there. 

          “It’s an old friend of mine, John Watson,” Mike said, as the stranger took his phone and started texting away on it, seemingly bored of his existence already. 

          “Afghanistan or Iraq?” 

          “Sorry?” John asked in shock, glancing back at Mike who simply tipped his head as he settled into a chair, looking far too much like he was getting ready for a show. 

          “Which was it, Afghanistan or Iraq?” The man asked again, John checking with Mike one last time before answering. 

          “Afghanistan. Sorry, how did you know?” He asked before a small, mouse like woman came in with some coffee, glancing around as the still nameless man quickly handed John’s mobile back to him. 

          “Ah, Molly, coffee. Thank you. What happened to the lipstick?” 

          “It wasn’t working for me,” Molly answered. She seemed anxious as she looked at the other men in the room, John offering her a smile in greeting though he was still confused by everything that had lead up to this moment. 

          “Really? I thought it was a big improvement. Your mouth’s too small now.” Rude, blunt, and didn’t like to answer questions. The poor girl didn’t seem to put off, but he could tell she was hurt by the comment, slipping out from the room shortly after and without much more to say. “How do you feel about the violin?” 

          “I’m sorry, what?” John asked after a moment, realising that the conversation was back on him again. 

          “I play the violin when I’m thinking. Sometimes I don’t talk for days on end. Would that bother you? Potential flatmates should know the worst about each other.” He pointed out, John blinking in confusion before thinking that he had finally pieced together the puzzle as he turned to Mike. 

          “Oh, you told him about me?” 

          “Not a word.” Or not… 

          “Then who said anything about flatmates?” John asked as more of a demand than a question, starting to get frustrated with his lack of answers about anything going on anymore. 

          “I did. Told Mike this morning that I must be a difficult man to find a flatmate for. Now here he is, just after lunch with an old friend, clearly just home from military service in Afghanistan. Wasn’t that difficult a leap.” 

          “How  _ did  _ you know about Afghanistan?” John huffed slightly in annoyance as he was ignored, yet again. 

          “Got my eye on a nice little place in central London. Together we ought to be able to afford it. We’ll meet there tomorrow evening; seven o’clock. Sorry, gotta dash. I think I left my riding crop in the mortuary.” He shrugged off, John giving a double take at that comment. A Riding crop? Looking at flats together? None of this made sense, and John had enough of it all, turning to face the man and tightening his hold on his can as he decided to call the man out. 

          “Is that it?” 

          “Is that what?” The other asked as he faltered, seeming oblivious to anything he might have done wrong. 

          “We’ve only just met and we’re going to go and look at a flat?” 

          “Problem?” Seriously, was this man really that oblivious? 

          “We don’t know a thing about each other; I don’t know where we’re meeting; I don’t even know your name.” John challenged, though that only seemed to be a dare to the other as he stepped towards him and narrowed his eyes. 

          “I know you’re an Army doctor and you’ve been invalided home from Afghanistan. I know you’ve got a brother who’s worried about you, but you won’t go to him for help because you don’t approve of him, possibly because he’s an alcoholic; more likely because he recently walked out on his wife… and I know that your therapist thinks your limp’s psychosomatic, quite correctly, I’m afraid. That’s enough to be going on with, don’t you think?” He spoke quickly, John unsure if he wanted to stare in awe at the other or punch him in the face…. Or maybe hit him with his cane, when the mention of his leg. Just because it was in his head didn’t change the fact that it hurt. About to leave, the man paused before dramatically leaning back to address him one last time. “The name’s Sherlock Holmes and the address is two two one B Baker Street. Afternoon.” Sherlock, apparently, said with a quick wink and a click goodbye, leaving John in utter disbelief as he looked back at Mike trying to figure out what the hell had just happened. 

          “Yeah… He’s always like that.” Mike said with a knowing chuckle, pushing himself up from his chair and patting John lightly on the shoulder. “Let me introduce you properly to Molly. She was one of my best students, absolutely brilliant.” 

*****

          His heart was racing as he left Barts, pulling his mobile out of his coat pocket now that he was out of the lab and there was service, quickly dialing Lestrade’s number. Sherlock wasn’t inclined to speak with his brother at the moment, nor did he think that Mycroft would tell him if he had anything to do with John showing up there today, but the universe was rarely so lazy, and he didn’t think that John would just show up out of the blue looking for a flat in London. Normally he didn’t call, but he didn’t have time to try and explain things over text, especially when he knew the man would just ask idiotic questions instead of getting straight to the point. When he heard his voice on the other end, he didn’t even bother with pleasantries, just skipping straight to the point. 

          “Lestrade. I want to know how it happened and what involvement you and my brother might have had in it. I don’t believe in coincidences and it seems very unlikely to me that I talk to Mike Stamford about moving to Baker Street, after you and my brother have been pestering me for years, and he brings John to Bart's to introduce him to me as a potential flatmate. So tell me, what did you do?” 

          “John’s in London?” Lestrade finally spoke up after a moment of silence, Sherlock sighing and rolling his eyes. “I didn’t… Look, I told My to leave Stamford out of all of this because he’s a nice guy, and an even worse liar than I am. Baker Street was just because Mrs. Hudson is a sweet woman and is fond of you after you helped with her husband. I thought John was going to move in with family… he’s really come back to you this time?” Frowning, Sherlock hailed a cab and got inside, quickly muttering the address to the driver before responding to Lestrade. 

          “I don’t believe that neither of you had any involvement in this. Both of you have been trying to get me to find John ever since I decided not to, and now, as he’s coming back to London, he suddenly shows up to live with me? I swear to you both, if anything bad happens, I will make your lives a nightmare,” He hissed, hanging up and placing his mobile back in his coat pocket. 

*****

          Called to his fourth suicide, Greg was almost excited to find that there had been a note scratched into the wood beside the poor woman, knowing that finally meant he had something interesting to give the brilliant twat, and so maybe, finally, Sherlock would help. Rushing over to Baker Street, he took the stairs two at a time, just thankful that the door had been left open this time around. Barely a foot in the door and Sherlock already knew, of course he already knew. 

          “Where?” Well at least he didn’t need to try and explain himself. 

          “Brixton, Lauriston Gardens.” Greg explained, trying to catch his breath and realising that he wasn’t as in as good of shape as Mycroft always liked to praise him for, glancing over at the man sitting in the chair. Frowning, he looked him over, knowing that this wasn’t one of Sherlock’s homeless fellows, but he didn’t strike him as someone who looked like the mental image he had painted to be the John Mycroft always described. 

          “What’s new about this one? You wouldn’t have come to get me if there wasn’t something different.” 

          “You know how they never leave notes? This one did. Will you come?” While Greg usually cringed at the look of excitement in Sherlock’s eyes when he got an exciting case, all he could feel was relief this time around. 

          “Who’s on forensics?” Damn. 

          “It’s Anderson.” 

          “Anderson won’t work with me.” 

          “Well, he won’t be your assistant!” 

          “I  _ need  _ an assistant.” Really? Where was this coming from? He almost always prefered to work alone. Greg glanced over towards the other man who was watching their conversation like a tennis match. That must be John… Sherlock wouldn’t be trying this hard to impress a stranger if he wasn’t someone important. 

          “Will you come?” 

          “Not in a police car. I’ll be right behind.” Thank God. 

          “Thank you.” Greg muttered as he glanced towards Mrs. Hudson with a quick nod hello and goodbye, and again to possible John, who Sherlock seemed not bothered to even introduce, though he assumed that was to be expected when he still hadn’t convinced Sherlock that he hadn’t been a part in having John come back. 

          Not half an hour later, he sighed in relief when his radio chirped that Sherlock had arrived, though again, Donovan used that nickname and honestly he should have suspended Sally by now for that, but the last time he had brought it up with Sherlock he had told him just to leave it alone. Couldn’t win for losing on that front. Nearly laughing when he saw the rage in Anderson’s face as he came up behind Sherlock, John followed a few steps behind him. 

          “Who’s this?” The question was pointless, as he knew Sherlock wouldn’t tell him for certain, but if he was just going to bring John here and not introduce him, at least he could have a little fun. 

          “He’s with me.” 

          “But who  _ is  _ he?” He pressed, having to fight back a smile as he could see that Sherlock was irritated with his questions. 

          “I said he’s with me.” Greg could feel the stress migraine from a mile away and made a note to himself to try and explain to Sherlock, some other time, that he couldn’t just invite people willy nilly to his crime scenes. They weren’t dates... Or maybe they were. Watching the two of them as they looked over the body laid out in front of them, trying to catch Sherlock’s eye as he continued to hover over this Doctor Watson’s side, the both of them taken by momentary surprise when the newest member of their little party mindlessly showered Sherlock in praise. It wasn’t long before the detective was off on a tangent, running down the stairs excited over the missing suitcase. Greg shared a glance with the doctor, almost glad to see the lack of understanding in his eyes, turning to his team and directing them in so they could get out of the dilapidated building. Coming back after a few moments, Greg dusted his hand off on his trousers as he walked towards John. 

          “John, is it? Sorry about… all this. Greg Lestrade.” 

          “Yeah,” He said with a slight nod, glancing at his hand before shifting his cane around so he could shake his hand. 

          “Sharing the flat with him?” He smiled when John nodded with a sigh. “Good luck with that. Here, let me give you my mobile. Sherlock’s a lot of bark with no bite, and more brains than he knows what to do with. Trust me when I say, you’ll be needing a pub mate.” Greg laughed, grinning when John seemed to nod in agreement before looking out the door again and making a small nod as he pocketed his card. “Yeah, I won’t keep you. Don’t worry, you won’t be charged with trespassing or anything like that.” He promised, watching John make his way out before immediately reaching for his phone to text Mycroft. 

> **Your brother somehow convinced John to come to a case with him. He looks like hell, but I’ve never seen Sherlock look so happy before. -GL**
> 
> **Also, another one of those suicide cases. I’ll be home late. Love you. - GL**

          “Because he’s a psychopath, and psychopaths get bored.” Greg could just hear Sally’s voice from the police tape, his anger subdued only just by how John’s chest had puffed up in automatic defense of the man he barely knew. 

          “Donovan!” He yelled out for her, calling her in to do her actual job instead of name calling and bothering John. Oh, they would have to talk tonight after they had finished with the scene. 

*****

          John was back, with Sherlock, and now they were solving cases together. Quickly sending a message back to Gregory, he called for Anthea, the woman walking into the office and taking a seat next to him on his desk. 

          “My dear, I know you have plans with the family tonight, so I won’t involve you in all of this. I think it might be the perfect time to test out your new double.” Every so often, there ended up being someone who looked eerily similar to them, as it was only a matter of time before they showed up with how long they lived. Anthea’s had come along with perfect timing, as she wanted to keep Miles safe with her job, and bringing in a double would help keep attention off of her. “Have her ready, I want her in a car now, and she will be picking up John Watson. I on the other hand, will need a separate vehicle to the warehouse. Have a good night and give Miles extra love from both Gregory and I,” Smiling, he placed a kiss on her cheek before walking out, bringing his laptop along with him so that he could watch the CCTV cameras as a part of the plan. 

          Setting up in the car as they made their way to the warehouse, Mycroft started with the payphone on the wall of the fast food restaurant, quickly hanging up as the staff goes to pick it up. He had John’s attention, and hopefully now, as the man was walking down the road, he would capture his attention with the next call. Ringing the public telephone box, he smiled as John stopped, pausing before walking over and picking up the phone. 

          “Hello?” 

          “There is a security camera on the building to your left. Do you see it?” 

          “Who is this? Who’s speaking?” Well, he was suspicious, but he didn’t hang up either, that was a good sign. 

          “Do you see the camera, Doctor Watson?” Mycroft watched as John looked through the window of the phone box towards the camera, his finger hovering over the button to move it. 

          “Yeah, I see it.” 

          “Watch.” With that, he moved the camera away so it looked anywhere other than the doctor’s location. “There is another camera on the building opposite you. Do you see it?” Waiting until John looked, he quickly pushed the button to make it swivel away as well. “And finally, at the top of the building on your right.” 

          “How are you doing this?” 

          “Get into the car, Doctor Watson.” On cue, the car pulled up to the curb, his driver getting out and opening the rear door. “I would make some sort of threat, but I’m sure your situation is quite clear to you.” With that, he hung up the phone, shutting down his laptop and slipping out of the car. They had arrived at the warehouse, and he knew it would be a good ten minutes before John would arrive. His team had brought a chair, and even though he knew he wasn’t under any direct threat, his security was always present but never seen. When the car finally pulled up, Mycroft leaned on his brolly, waiting till John exited to speak. “Have a seat, John.” 

          “You know, I’ve got a phone. I mean, very clever and all that, but er… you could just phone me. On my phone.” So he was still very much a sarcastic man, not willing to put up with theatrics, which was good news for them as it made him perfect for Sherlock. It was good to know that some things never changed. John didn’t take a seat though, instead he walked past and stood closer to him, leaning on the cane. 

          “The leg must be hurting you. Sit down.” 

          “I don’t wanna sit down.” 

          “You don’t seem very afraid.” The true sign of a soldier, even if he had only been a doctor. 

          “You don’t seem very frightening.” Chuckling, Mycroft smiled as he looked to the other, glad to know that John was back and his brother would finally be himself once more. 

          “Ah yes. The bravery of the soldier. Bravery is by far the kindest word for stupidity, don’t you think?” Reigning his features back in, he looked to John with a stern expression, waiting for an answer but not receiving one. “What is your connection to Sherlock Holmes?” 

          “I don’t have one. I barely know him. I met him… yesterday.” 

          “Mmm, and since yesterday, you’ve moved in with him and now you’re solving crimes together. Might we expect a happy announcement by the end of the week?” Gregory would have laughed at that comment, but he also might have shoved him, telling him to be nicer about the whole bit, but that was why Mycroft had chose to do this on his own. 

          “Who are you?” 

          “An interested party.” 

          “Interested in Sherlock? Why? I’m guessing you’re not friends.” Actually, not in the slightest. Sherlock hadn’t spoken to him since he found out that John had been shot, and most days, they weren’t on the best of terms. 

          “You’ve met him. How many ‘friends’ do you imagine he has? I am the closest thing to a friend that Sherlock Holmes is capable of having.” 

          “And what’s that?” 

          “An enemy.” 

          “An enemy?” 

          “In his mind, certainly. If you were to ask him, he’d probably say his arch-enemy. He does love to be dramatic.” That was a bit of an understatement, as his brother was the queen of drama. Although, that was another point the both of them would argue on. 

          “Well, thank God you’re above all that.” Frowning at the comment, he was about to respond when John’s mobile chirped, the man pulling it out of his pocket and looking to the screen. “I hope I’m not distracting you.” 

          “Not distracting me at all.” 

          “Do you plan to continue your association with Sherlock Holmes?” 

          “I could be wrong… but I think that’s none of your business.” How wrong he was, but the defensive response and refusal to give an answer was a good indication that John was not going anywhere anytime soon. 

          “It could be.” 

          “It really couldn’t.” Fine. Two could play that game. If the man wanted to be difficult about it, he had the means of making him talk. This was also the reason why he didn’t have Gregory join him, as he would never allow him to use such information against John. Taking out his notebook from his inside pocket, he looked to the information, more for effect really as he had it all memorised. 

          “If you do move into, two hundred and twenty one B Baker Street, I’d be happy to pay you a meaningful sum of money on a regular basis to ease your way.” Having had the notebook out long enough for the man to notice, he put it back away. 

          “Why?” 

          “Because you’re not a wealthy man.” 

          “In exchange for what?” 

          “Information. Nothing indiscreet. Nothing you’d feel… uncomfortable with. Just tell me what he’s up to.” 

          “Why?” Because Sherlock would never tell him, because the man could get into all sorts of trouble, and who knows, he might even start using again, though he doubted it now that John was back, but things always deteriorated quickly with his brother. 

          “I worry about him. Constantly.” 

          “That’s nice of you.” He had been serious about that last comment, but he would be hard pressed to think that John would believe him. 

          “But I would prefer, for various reasons, that my concern go unmentioned. We have what you might call a… difficult relationship.” Yet another understatement, but the details were superfluous. John’s phone went off again, and the man immediately took it out of his pocket and read the message, Mycroft frowning as the man didn’t seem phased by his offer at all. 

          “No.” 

          “But I haven’t mentioned a figure.” 

          “Don’t bother.” Laughing briefly but not meaning it, he looked to the other with a bit of disbelief. 

          “You’re very loyal, very quickly.” 

          “No, I’m not. I’m just not interested.” Though he knew it probably had to do with John’s nature, and the history he did not know he shared with Sherlock. Mycroft decided to test him just a bit further, taking his notebook out again to make a point.

          “Trust issues, it says right here.” For the first time, John actually looked a little unnerved. Good. 

          “What’s that?” 

          “Could it be that you’ve decided to trust Sherlock Holmes, of all people?” 

          “Who says I trust him?” 

          “You don’t seem the kind to make friends easily.” From his military file, it seemed that John hadn’t spent much time with the other troops, instead he spent time alone or with Major James Sholto, so he didn’t seem to be one for camaraderie. 

          “Are we done?” Looking back up at the other, he caught John’s gaze, waiting just a moment. 

          “You tell me.” The man just stared at him for a long moment before turning his back on him and walking towards his car. “I imagine people have already warned you to stay away from him, but I can see from your left hand that’s not going to happen.” 

          “My what?”

          “Show me?” Nodding towards John’s hand, he plants the tip of his brolly on the floor and leans casually on it, waiting. The man doesn’t move closer to him though, stays where he is at and raises his left hand, bending it at the elbow and staying put. Strolling forward, Mycroft hooks the handle of his brolly over his arm as he reaches out for John’s hand, the man instantly pulling it back a bit. 

          “Don’t.” Lowering his head and raising his brows, Mycroft waited till John lowered his hand, holding it out flat with the palm down. Taking the man’s hand in both of his, he looks closely. 

          “Remarkable.” 

          “What is?” 

          “Most people blunder round this city, and all they see are streets and shops and cars. When you walk with Sherlock Holmes, you see the battlefield.” Walking back to his original spot, Mycroft turned on his heel and face the doctor once more. “You’ve seen it already, haven’t you?” 

          “What’s wrong with my hand?” 

          “You have an intermittent tremor in your left hand. Your therapist thinks it’s post-traumatic stress disorder. She thinks you’re haunted by the memories of your military service.” 

          “Who the hell are you? How do you know that?” John practically twitches as he looks to him, his tone angry and distressed. 

          “Fire her. She’s got it the wrong way round. You’re under stress right now and your hand is perfectly steady. You’re not haunted by the war, Doctor Watson… you miss it.” Leaning in closer, he waits till John looks him in the eyes. “Welcome back.” The phrase held more than what the man would understand, as it wasn’t just a welcome back to London. It was a welcome back into their lives, back to Sherlock, back home with them. Turning around, Mycroft starts off, casually twirling his brolly. “Time to choose a side, Doctor Watson.” 

*****

          In a way, Greg felt bad about staging a drug bust to get what he needed from Sherlock, but seeing as the man wouldn’t answer his mobile and had run off to do God knew what for the crime, and finding the missing case he had been raving about without telling anyone, it was the only thing he could do without to get the detective's attention. It had been nearly four hours, and he hadn’t heard a thing from Sherlock, so stooping to his level was the way to go. He was already trying to think of excuses he could make when Mycroft no doubt heard about this and started asking questions. That train of thought was broken when Sherlock came charging into his new flat, John in tow just behind him. 

          “What are you doing?” Sherlock was angry, but Greg had five years experience not only contending with him, but with Mycroft as well. 

          “Well, I knew you’d find the case, I’m not stupid.” Defending himself, he settled into the chair, having told his team he would take care of the angry brat once he showed up at the flat. 

          “You can’t just break into my flat.” 

          “And you can’t withhold evidence, and I didn’t  _ break  _ into your flat.” 

          “Well, what do you call this then?” 

          “It’s a drugs bust,” Greg said bluntly, looking around at his officers, a few having slowed down to see just what would happen now.

          “Seriously?!  _ This  _ guy, a junkie?! Have you met him?!” John spoke up, Greg feeling a tug of a smile at the corner of his lips at how protective he already was towards Sherlock. No wonder  they were mates, he really was what Sherlock needed. 

          “John…” Sherlock started to warn him, stepping closer, though the doctor wasn’t having any of it.

          “I’m pretty sure you could search this flat all day, you wouldn’t find anything you could call recreational,” John continued on, Greg’s amusement starting to shift to guilt as he realised just how anxious Sherlock looked at the moment. 

          “John, you probably want to shut up  _ now. _ ” Sherlock said, dropping his voice to try and get the other to realise how serious he was being.  

          “Yeah, but come on,” The doctor tried to joke, looking back at his new friend before his face slipped. “No.” 

          “What?” 

          “You?” 

          “Shut up! I am not your sniffer dog.” Sherlock hissed as he turned his attention back to Greg, the D.I starting to feel guilt again as he realised that he might have angered Sherlock more than he had planned. 

          “No, Anderson’s my sniffer dog.” Greg said with a quick nod, plenty happy to throw that man under the bus any time of the day. 

          “What? Anderson, what are _you_ doing here on a drugs bust?” Sherlock snapped, Greg sneaking a quick glance back at John who seemed to have resigned himself to just sit back and watch what on earth he had gotten himself into. 

          “Oh, I volunteered.” Anderson said with a smirk, sighing as he reminded himself as to why he was doing this and the case they all needed to get back to. 

          “They all did. They’re not strictly speaking  _ on  _ the drugs squad, but they’re very keen.” 

          “Are these  _ human  _ eyes?” Donovan asked as she stepped around Anderson from the kitchen, holding up a jar as quite a few of the men in the room jerked back in disgust. 

          “Put those back!” 

          “They were in the microwave!”

          “It’s an experiment.” 

          “That’s disgusting.” Greg muttered under his breath, waving his hand to prompt his team to get back to work. “Keep looking guys,” He urged, hoping there wouldn’t be any more body parts to be found as he stood and faced Sherlock one on one. “Or you could help us properly and I’ll stand them down.” 

          “This is childish.” Sherlock argued, pacing around the flat as he tugged at his hair. Greg rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. 

          “Well, I’m  _ dealing  _ with a child. Sherlock, this is  _ our  _ case. I’m letting you in, but you do not go off on your own. Clear?” He argued, feeling a whole new level of deja vu from the first time Mycroft had come onto his scene and taken everything from under him without a second thought. 

          “Oh, what, so you set up a pretend drugs bust to bully me?” Sherlock hissed, Greg sighing and closing his eyes for a moment. Hopefully this would just be a bluff and not reality. 

          “It stops being pretend if they find anything.” 

          “I am clean!” 

          “Is your flat? All of it?” 

          “I don’t even smoke,” Sherlock defending himself, rolling up his sleeve to show the patches on his arm, Greg nodding as he did the same to show him his arm as well. It had been a pact between them that they would quit together after Miles had nearly got in trouble having found a cigarette that had fallen on the floor and the baby had almost eaten it.

          “Neither do I.” Didn’t mean he didn't want to go out and do so this very moment. “So let’s work together. We’ve found Rachel.” 

          “Who is she?” 

          “Jennifer Wilson’s only daughter.” 

          “Her daughter? Why would she write her daughter’s name? Why?” 

          “Never mind that. We found the case.” Anderson spoke up as he stepped out of the kitchen and nodded towards the corner of the living room. “According to  _ someone, _ the murderer has the case, and we found it in the hands of our favourite psychopath.” 

          “I’m not a psychopath, Anderson. I’m a high-functioning sociopath. Do your research,” Sherlock snapped, Greg biting his tongue just a bit harder to keep from laughing. “You need to bring Rachel in, you need to question her. I need to question her.” 

          “She’s dead.” Greg started to explain, his shoulders slouching some as he remembered what he had found during his search on their victims history. 

          “Excellent! How, when and why? Is there a connection? There has to be,” Sherlock asked, Greg glancing once more over at John for some sort of help in the moment. 

          “Well, I doubt it, since she’s been dead for fourteen years. Technically she was never alive. Rachel was Jennifer Wilson’s stillborn daughter, fourteen years ago.” He tried to say gently, his own fears welling up in his chest, though he did his best to push them away for now. 

          “No, that’s… that’s not right. How… why would she do that? Why?” 

          “Why would she think of her daughter in her last moments? Yup - Sociopath; I’m seeing it now.” Anderson mocked, Greg surprised that he was physically able to keep himself from smacking the man across the back of his head. 

          “She didn’t think about her daughter. She scratched her name on the floor with her fingernails. She was dying, it took effort, it would have hurt.” Sherlock argued, his annoyance clearly building again, not only at Anderson, but at the new piece of the puzzle that wasn’t falling into place. 

          “You said that the victims all took the poison themselves, that he  _ makes  _ them take it. Well, maybe he, I don’t know, talks to them? Maybe he used the death of her daughter somehow.” John offered, looking up at Sherlock as the man for once kept his calm and proving to Greg in that moment, just how important he really was to his friend. 

          “Yeah, but that was ages ago. Why would she still be upset?” Sherlock asked, the flat going silent as they looked back at him in shock. “Not good?” 

          “ _ Bit  _ not good, yeah…” 

          “Yeah, but if you were dying… if you’d been murdered; in your very last few seconds, what would you say?” 

          “Please, God, let me live,” John said flatly, just the thought of those words taking him back to the pain that had taken over his body and the fear he had seen in James’ eyes. 

          “Oh, use your imagination!” 

          “I don’t  _ have  _ to.” John defended himself calmly, looking back at Sherlock as the detective paused in his pacing. A split second of horror quickly shifting to sorrow and regret before clearly being shoved back to what they were trying to figure out. 

          “Yeah, but if you were clever,  _ really  _ clever… Jennifer Wilson, running all those lovers; she was clever. She’s trying to tell us something.” 

          “Isn’t the doorbell working? Your taxi’s here, Sherlock,” Mrs. Hudson asked from the door, drawing everyone’s attention away from Sherlock for a moment as John moved to speak with her. “Oh, dear. They’re making such a mess. What are they looking for?” 

          “It’s a drugs bust, Mrs. Hudson.” John explained, giving a quick glance towards Greg to show that he was agreeing to play along with his excuse if only for the landlady's sake. 

          “But they’re just for my hip. They’re herbal soothers.” She fretted, the doctor smiling slightly despite himself until Sherlock snapped back to reality with a shout. 

          “Shut up, everybody, shut up! Don’t move, don’t speak, don’t breathe. I’m trying to think. Anderson, face the other way. You’re putting me off.” 

          “What? My  _ face  _ is?” Anderson argued, Greg sighing in frustration and electing to just go with it if it meant that they could finally get the break in the case. 

          “Everybody quiet and still. Anderson, turn your back.” 

          “Oh, for God’s sake!” 

          “Your back, now, please!” The DI demanded, glaring at Anderson until he did as he was told, Sherlock continuing to mutter to himself. 

          “What about your taxi?” Mrs. Hudson pressed, only to run away immediately after Sherlock yelled at her as well. Everyone in the flat stayed silent after that, Greg and John sharing a glance before the man in question finally seemed to perk up. 

          “Oh… Ah! She was clever, clever, yes! She’s cleverer than you lot and she’s dead. Do you see, do you get it? She didn’t  _ lose  _ her phone, she never lost it. She  _ planted  _ it on him.” He started, Greg frowning as he tried to catch up. “When she got out of the car, she knew that she was going to her death. She left the phone in order to lead us to her killer.” 

          “But how?” He asked, trying to coax more out of the detective, seeing as he was going to be the one doing the paperwork at the end of the night. 

          “What? What do you mean, how? Rachel!” Sherlock stated as if it was obvious. “Don’t you see?  _ Rachel! _ ” He tried again, though he was still left with the same blank stares from everyone. “Oh, look at you lot. You’re all so vacant. Is it nice not being me? It must be  _ so  _ relaxing. Rachel is not a name.” 

          “Then what is it?” John spoke up this time, just as frustrated as everyone else, though, Sherlock didn’t snap at him like he did with the others. 

          “John, on the luggage, there’s a label. E-mail address.” Sherlock prompted, the doctor walking over to read it out loud. 

          “Er, Jennie.pink@mephone.org.uk.” Well that’s just obnoxious, the thought cementing Greg’s hatred for the colour pink quite solidly in his head, though Sherlock didn’t seemed bothered by it at all as he moved to bring up his laptop. 

          “Oh, I’ve been too slow. She didn’t have a laptop, which means she did her business on her phone, so it’s a smartphone, it’s e-mail enabled.” Sherlock explained quickly, though it seemed more like showing off than anything else at this point. “So there was a website for her account. The username is her e-mail address, and all together now, the password is?” 

          “Rachel,” John provided, moving to stand behind the detective’s back to watch him work, as if it was the most natural thing to do. Greg wondered if he even realised he was doing it, or if he felt the same deja vu he had felt when he first met Mycroft, and had since learned to accept as a normal part of his life now. 

          “So we can read her e-mails. So what?” Anderson asked, the D.I once more wanting to smack the man for being such an idiot and proving that he was very much a one trick pony when it came to forensics, not understanding the big picture as a whole. 

          “Anderson, don’t talk out loud. You lower the I.Q. of the whole street. We can do much more than just read her e-mails. It’s a smartphone, it’s got GPS, which means if you lose it you can locate it online. She’s leading us directly to the man who killed her.” Sherlock explained, Greg quickly running through different things in his mind as well. 

“Unless he got rid of it.” Greg murmured, seeing as the man had already gotten rid of the suitcase. 

          “We know he didn’t.” John provided, the D.I giving him a questioning look before they were distracted by Mrs. Hudson once more, who was being horribly persistent about the taxi that was waiting for whatever reason, downstairs. Watching John easily trade places with Sherlock as the other detective quietly urged his landlady to leave them be, Greg shook his head before looking back at Sherlock as he started on about what they needed to do next. 

          “We need to get vehicles, get a helicopter. We’re gonna have to move fast. This phone battery won’t last forever.” 

          “We’ll just have a map reference, not a name.” Greg explained, not sure how on earth he would be able to scramble that on such a short notice without knowing what or who they were after. 

          “It’s a start! It narrows it down from just anyone in London. It’s the first proper lead that we’ve had.” Sherlock argued, Greg nodding slightly in agreement. This was currently the biggest case the NSY was on, and a lead was better than what they had twenty-four hours ago, with his train wreck of a press conference. 

          “Sherlock,” John called, pulling everyone’s attention back to the computer as the man rushed over to what it had to offer. “It’s here. It’s in 221 Baker Street.” 

          “How can it be here?  _ How _ ?” Sherlock asked in frustration, looking around the room the same as the rest of the team, having blessedly followed along with everything that was happening in front of them. Except Anderson, but Greg was going to make sure to never bring him along on something like this again. 

          “Well, maybe it was in the case when you brought it back, and it fell out somewhere.” 

          “What, and I didn’t notice it?  _ Me _ ? I didn’t notice?” 

          “Anyway, we texted him and he called back,” John explained, glancing up at Greg from the chair as the D.I. gave out orders for his men to start searching for the mobile. Probably that horrible shade of pink as well, since everything else had matched. While they were searching for it, John found himself watching Sherlock as he seemed to fall out of sync with the action going on in the room, staring off into the hall. He had been caught staring off into space plenty of times before when trying to plan out medical procedures in his head. “Sherlock, you okay?” 

          “What? Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” 

          “So, how can the phone be here?” He gently urged Sherlock along, trying to get an answer out of him so they could take the next step. 

          “Dunno.” 

          “I’ll try it again,” John offered, nudging Sherlock to the side so he could stand and get his mobile, though he frowned as the detective started for the door and out the flat. “Where are you going?” 

          “Fresh air. Just popping outside for a moment. Won’t be long.” Sherlock answered distractedly, clearly lying, though it wasn’t like John knew what else to do at the moment. 

          “You sure you’re alright?” 

          “I’m fine.” Sherlock called, the sound of the front door closing a moment later, making John shake his head in frustration as he quickly moved to look out the window, Greg stepping over to stand by the man to see if anything came from the phone call. 

          “He just got in a cab.” John said in annoyance, Greg raising an eyebrow, having missed the earlier conversation from trying to search for the mobile. “It’s Sherlock. He just drove off in a cab.” 

          “I told you, he does that.” Donovan argued as she passed by the two men, rolling her eyes and leveling a glare at her boss before walking off. “He bloody left again. We’re wasting our time!” She yelled, the D.I. ignoring his second in command for a moment in favour of what was actually happening, hoping that updating the phone search might help. 

          “I’m calling the phone. It’s ringing out.” John mentioned, looking up at Greg as he glanced around the room in frustration. 

          “If it’s ringing, it’s not here.” 

          “I’ll try the search again.” John offered, trying to do what he could to help as he returned to his computer while Donovan came back to confront Greg once more. 

          “Does it matter? Does  _ any  _ of it? You know, he’s just a lunatic, and he’ll  _ always  _ let you down, and you’re wasting your time.  _ All  _ our time.” She hissed, Greg wanting to argue that of course it matter, that this phone was their one good lead, that Sherlock was  _ not  _ a disappointment. He never was, and even when he did put in false calls, or ran off for no good reason, that was not letting him down, but none of that mattered at this moment, and certainly not to her, so Greg could only sigh as he called for everyone to pack up and go. 

          “Why did he do that? Why did he have to leave?” Greg asked once he and John were alone, looking back at him as he laid his coat over his arm, trying to understand why Sherlock had suddenly flipped from being so focused on the task at hand to leaving in some taxi to God knows where. 

          “You know him better than I do.” John argued, Greg laughing a bit as he shook his head in amusement. 

          “I’ve known him for five years and no, I don’t.” 

          “So why do you put up with him?” 

          “Because I’m desperate, that’s why,” Greg muttered, knowing full well that he would never be able to solve as many crimes as he did, as accurately as he did, if it wasn’t for Sherlock’s help. Sherlock made him good at his job, and without him, he was no better than any other D.I. on the force, though Mycroft would love to argue him on that front. Walking out, Greg faltered before turning back around to face John once more. “And because Sherlock Holmes is a great man, and I think one day, if we’re very,  _ very  _ lucky, he might even be a good one.” He added, never once believing a word that his team had said about his brother-in-law, and needing to make sure John understood that as well before he left.

*****

          An hour or so later, he had received a call, anonymous, that there had been a shooting in another part of town, and that Sherlock Holmes had been spotted there. Cursing, Greg dragged his hands over his face and grabbed his things, texting Mycroft that he was going to be late home, again, and heading out. It didn’t take them long to find Sherlock, and once the EMT’s had arrived, they took away the criminal, some man who apparently only had a few months to live and was killing people for money to give his kids when he left. Walking up to where Sherlock sat, he chuckled when he saw the attending place another shock blanket over the man’s shoulders. 

          “Why have I got this blanket? They keep putting this blanket on me,” Sherlock complained as he always did, Greg rolling his eyes as he crossed his arms over his chest and assessed the other for a long moment. 

          “Yeah, it’s for shock.” 

          “I’m not  _ in  _ shock.” 

          “Yeah, but some of the guys want to take photographs,” Greg tilted his head towards the crowd that had gathered along with some news photographers. They both knew by now when Greg deserved to get his way, and blessedly, Sherlock didn’t put up a fight. 

          “So, the shooter. No sign?” 

          “Cleared off before we got here, but a guy like that would have had enemies, I supposed. One of them could have been following him, but got nothing to go on.” Greg shrugged, glancing around the scene again as if he would somehow figure it out. 

          “Oh, I wouldn’t say that.” Of course Sherlock would have something to hold over his head. 

          “Okay, give me.” 

          “The bullet they just dug out of the wall’s from a handgun. Kill shot over that distance from that kind of a weapon - that’s a crack shot you’re looking for, but not just a marksman; a fighter. His hands couldn’t have shaken at all, so clearly he’s acclimatised to violence. He didn’t fire until I was in immediate danger, though, so strong moral principle. You’re looking for a man, probably with a history of military service, and nerves of steel…” Sherlock trailed off, his gaze locked on John where he stood on the sidelines, and Greg felt himself wanting to gag from their little moment they were sharing. Hopefully this wasn’t what it was like between himself and Mycroft… of course not, they didn’t make doe eyes at each other on crime scenes. “Actually, do you know what? Ignore me.” Sherlock chimed in, hoping off the side of the ambulance to stand. 

          “Sorry?” 

          “Ignore all of that, it’s just the shock talking.” Sherlock said vaguely as he started walking towards the tape. “I just need to talk about the rent.” 

          “Where’re you going?” Greg warned, though he knew a lost cause when he saw one. “I’ve still got a question for you!” 

          “Oh, what  _ now _ ? I’m in shock! Look, I’ve got a blanket!  _ And  _  I just caught you a serial killer. More or less…” Sherlock complained, the D.I. hating himself for how much he was trying not to laugh at his friend while also trying to scold him. God, it really was like trying to handle a child. 

          “Okay. We’ll bring you in tomorrow. Off you go.” Sighing, he looked around the scene and wondered what Mycroft was up to when he saw him pull up, speaking now with Sherlock and John. Groaning, he finished up the preliminary paperwork he needed to sign off on, having just told himself again that he wasn’t as bad as Sherlock since he didn’t have dates at crime scenes, yet here he was ducking under the yellow tape and crossing the street to where Mycroft was waiting for him. “So, that’s John? Must say he’s definitely shorter than I expected him to be.” Greg attempted to joke, eyeing Mycroft’s assistant when she glanced up before giving a noncommittal shrug. “Who’s this?” 

          “Anthea,” She answered without looking up, Greg raising an eyebrow curiously. 

          “No you’re not.” She looked a hell of a lot like Anthea, but he had been around that woman for too long to tell that the person in front of him was definitely was not her. 

          “You’re the first to notice,” The woman hummed with a smirk as she tucked her mobile away. “Body double. She had family business to attend.” 

          “Oh right! They were going out to have a family night tonight. Either way, I’ve never seen Sherlock so happy to be around someone. It sits well on him.” He shook his head, the amusement of his friend finding his partner and the adrenaline of finishing a crazy case finally wearing off enough for the detective to look back at Mycroft and realise that he wasn’t nearly as amused with everything as he was. “Why are you here anyway? With not Anthea? I didn’t think this case had any ties to you at all, certainly not with it being a  murderous, rogue cabbie.” 

          “He was hired.” 

          Greg frowned, not understanding just yet. “Hired? By who?” 

          “Moriarty.” He blinked as he felt his blood run cold, looking between the two as he tried to find his voice. 

          “Oh.” 


	35. XXXIV

          The car ride was painfully silent, Gregory and Mycroft sitting mutely beside one another, save their hands locked in a death grip around one another’s as the car moved easily through the late night London traffic. There were still too many questions to be put into a single line of thought that could possibly make sense, so they kept quiet. Mycroft felt numb,  _ that  _ name weighing heavy in his mind as they rode home, and his senses dulled as he felt the other squeeze his hand as they slipped from the car. Once inside, Gregory paused in the hall, pulling him into a tight hug. 

          “Meum sol, talk to me, please…” 

          “Meum coeur…” Mycroft’s voice cracked as he started to speak, wrapping his arms around the other deftly, holding on for dear life as he buried his face in the other’s neck. Moriarty wasn’t supposed to come back, they thought he had disappeared, but that was too good to be true, and of course, now the man was back here in London, or at least close enough to control people in London. Now he was targeting Sherlock directly as well. How long was it before he came after them, knowing he was Sherlock’s brother, and then of course using Gregory against them. “I can’t do this love, I can’t put you in danger. You mean far too much to me, and now he’s here, he’s in London. I can’t put your life at risk, that is far too much to ask. I know you will argue, you will say that I don’t have to ask, but my love, I can’t have anything happen to you… I can’t. It would tear me apart if something happened and I could have stopped it.” Gregory hushed him, gently rubbing circles along his back. 

          “I know. I know, My. I know you’ll never let anything bad happen to me. I trust you, love. I do.” Gregory whispered, leaning back enough to kiss his forehead. “I will always be in danger, sweetheart. Not only from my line of work, but from working with Sherlock, from loving you. We’ve always known that there was a target on me, but we’ve done this before, yeah? It’ll be okay. I can step back from big cases like this, I can stay closer to the office where the security team can keep eyes on me,” 

          “No, no, no... Gregory, I can’t do that, I can’t let that happen to you. You wouldn’t be in danger, not like  _ this,  _ not on your own… it’s all my fault that someone like this could be targeting you and we have no way of stopping him.” 

          “I can stay at the safe house more…” Gregory started after a few moments, Mycroft’s breathing starting to pick up as he pulled back from the other, starting to pace the hallway, his mind flying in a million different directions. “My, I could meet you at your office, or Diogenes, and we can see one another that way, it wouldn’t be permanent, just until we figure this out. It’ll be okay…” 

          “You shouldn’t have to turn down cases, or be forced to work at the office… I’m not sure I can stand to be without you either, have you stay somewhere else… out of sight, out of my reach….” Pausing, he looked over to the other, his eyes wide. “But what if that’s the only way, the only possible way to keep you safe?” His voice was quiet, his throat tightening as he thought about it. 

          “Hey, My, Mycroft. Stop this,” Gregory raised his voice a little more each time, adding more force behind it until he reached out to grab his arm and pinned him against the wall. “Stop. Listen to me. We will fight this. Together. But that means we have to split up to get this bastard from both sides. We’re a team, no one is changing that. There is no way this bastard is taking you from me, and I’ll protect you just like you’ll protect me. Okay?” Even though he was silent and listening to Gregory as he was pinned against the wall, his thoughts were still whirring around. All he could really focus on was the phrase ‘split up’, his heart aching as he thought about what that actually meant.   
“I don’t like the idea of you leaving to stay somewhere else, out of sight, where I can’t know for sure that you are safe. I know that my security team will keep you safe to the best of their abilities, but it still concerns me.” Mycroft sagged against the other, his eyes closing as he leaned on his lover, feeling desperate and raw, but not certain as to what he could to make them feel any better. 

          “Come here,” Gregory murmured, pulling him to his chest and cradling his head. “I don’t like it either, My. I don’t. Until we have a set in stone plan on what to do and what’s safe or not, I’m not going anywhere, got it? I’m still right here, I’m still with you, right beside you, here and now, and always like I have been. I love you, and nothing will ever change that,” Gregory gently kissed his forehead, running a hand over his back in small circles. “Trust, love. Trust yourself, your team, trust me. You’re the most brilliant man there has ever been, you’ll find a way.” 

          “I do trust us, and my team, but what I cannot trust, is that madman. He is unstable and unpredictable, and nothing seems beyond his moral compass.” Though he was arguing, all fight was gone as he let his partner coddle him. Moving against the wall, he just needed to lay down, to be close to the other, to try and stop these horrible thoughts from keeping him awake. It had been a rather long day, especially after the ridiculous shenanigans his brother had gotten himself into, and with all the information they had learned. Taking Gregory’s hand, he started up the stairs, heading towards the bedroom, wanting to lay in a warm bath and relax, hoping the water could sooth them. Turning off what he could in his mind, Mycroft let Gregory undress him, the water running in the tub as the other sat down, settling in his lap and leaning against his chest. 

          “I will always take care of you, just how you take care of me, My. let me do that tonight.” Gregory’s voice was soft as he reached for the massage oil kept beside the tub, slicking his hands up and taking Mycroft’s arms, slowly working his way down and massaging every inch of skin before turning his attention to his shoulders and neck. “My sun, my life, my love. Let me do this for you.” 

          “My moon and stars, my heart, and my life…” Mycroft focused on the other’s touch, letting it drown out all other thoughts for the moment. Leaning into the other, he watched as those hands ran down his arms, over his chest, and down his torso. Gregory carefully tended to every last inch of him, his muscles relaxing slowly, though the fear and ache were still ever present in the back of his mind, at least they weren’t overpowering. 

          “We’ll be alright, My. We’ve been through so much just this time around, it’ll be alright. We’ll fight through this together. We both know we have to be careful, and if you tell me to stay where I am, or back off a case, I will. I know you don’t want me to have to do that, but I don’t care. I don’t want to start living back at the safe house, but we’ve had times where you’ve been out of the country for months before. Only this time, when we get to missing each other too much, we can see one another,” Gregory murmured, resting his chin on his shoulder as he wrapped his arms around Mycroft’s stomach. “I love you, Mycroft Holmes, and I will always fight for you. Always.” So much of this could be solved if he knew the key to getting Gregory’s memories to return, but he knew that was something that no one had unlocked. Until then, Gregory’s life was so fragile, and though he knew the man would come back to him, the idea of losing him to this madman was not one he was willing to entertain. Especially when he knew that the madman wouldn’t just kill him and be done with it, he would do far worse.   
“I’m so sorry love. You deserve better, you deserve to live without fear, without worry that this _spider_ will be coming for you,” Mycroft whispered, his hand reaching up to lay over top of the other’s. “I wish you didn’t have to fight…” 

          “Fighting’s what I do… what I’ve always done.” Gregory pointed out softly. “I know you’re afraid, I am too. But we fight, together, and we wint this, together. We’ll figure it out. Now come on. Let’s get into the shower and get scrubbed off before we turn into raisins in here. We’re together now, and we’ll be together for a long time, so let’s not worry about anything else right now, okay? You’ll have all of tomorrow to worry, let’s just have us tonight.” Gregory wasn’t going to let him fuss, and honestly, he was starting to feel exhausted and worn down from the thought of it all, so he gave in, nodding as he moved to sit up, stepping out of the tub and into the shower, getting the water running while the other drained the tub. Stepping under the stream, Mycroft sighed, letting it wash over him, smiling softly as he felt Gregory press against him. Turning in the man’s arms, his hands went to the other’s hips, his cheek pressing against Gregory’s. “Et luna, et stellis mea. Ferre non potui sine te vivere. Tu mihi, vita animae meae. Sine tuo numine, nihil sum.”  _ My moon and stars. I couldn’t bear to live without you. You are my heart, my life, my soul. Without you, I am nothing.  _

          “I’m right here. You won’t lose me,” Gregory whispered, kissing him slowly before placing another to his nose. Normally he would scrunch his face and scold the man for doing such a ridiculous action, knowing that the man always loved to tease him, but at the moment, it was oddly comforting. Sighing, Mycroft lost himself in the feel of those hands and the cloth rubbing over his skin, leaning into the touch, a few soft moans and sighs falling from his lips, his skin heated and tingling from the touch. “I love you, and we’ll make this work. I swear it.” 

          “I love you, my heart.” He couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge the idea of what was to come, or what they might have to do to bring the spider down, so instead he just wrapped his arms around his lover's waist, burying his face in the man’s neck. 

*****

          The morning didn’t bring any magical solutions like Greg had stupidly hoped it would, but at least he didn’t feel the same frantic kind of panic that they had the night before. Groaning as he normally did whenever he had to wake up, Greg rolled over to see Mycroft already sitting up, blinking a few times as he propped himself on his elbow. 

          “Hey,” he murmured, rubbing his face to wake himself up a bit more. “What are we doing?” Greg frowned as he looked over at Mycroft, chewing his lips as he tried to figure out if the man was just thinking or trapped in his mind. “My?” He asked softly, sighing before gently pressing a kiss to his cheek, moving down to the kitchen to make them both some tea, getting out the chamomile that always worked in these sorts of situations. “Wake up love,” He smiled softly, setting the cup down on the bedside for himself before gently taking his partner’s hands and wrapping them around the mug to let the warmth start to anchor him. Thank god Anthea had walked him through this enough times now that he knew it wasn’t always directly connected to him screwing up, and that his work would cause him to zone out like this now and again as well. Of course, this time Greg knew exactly what had triggered it. “I’m right here, My. Safe, by your side. Come on love, it’s okay.” It only took a moment before Mycroft was clearing his throat and taking a sip of the tea, Greg sitting back a little to give the other room.

          “Maybe it was a good thing that we never forced the divorce through, that you are still connected to Caroline…” It was probably for the best that Mycroft was able to hold his own tea now as he was greeted by that statement, Greg’s hands dropping down in shock as he looked back at his partner, wondering just what the hell Caroline had to do with any of this. 

          “Um, okay…” He muttered, trying to figure out just what on earth Mycroft had planned in that head of his, and if he wanted to know or not. “I… I don’t want to talk about her right now, okay?” Greg murmured, leaning up to kiss his forehead. “Don’t worry about her, please. It’s fine. Let’s sort out this first,” 

          “No, Gregory. Don’t you see, I have sorted it out. I am not just bringing her up for no reason.” Mycroft started, taking a few more sips of his tea before setting it down on the table. “Moriarty will be looking for anything connected to me. By law, and on paper, we are not connected. He would have to watch me to find out what you mean to me, as I try and keep it very under wraps for security purposes. You are still married to Caroline, and I’m just saying that maybe it’s better we hadn’t forced the divorce through, as we can still use this as a way to protect you.” Greg blinked a few times as he looked back at Mycroft, nodding slowly as he tried to understand what he was going on about and not panic. It was a way to trick everyone. He could do that. 

          “We… we talked about that once, before. I remember that now.” He murmured, nodding slowly as he reached for his mug of tea and sipping at it as well, though he didn’t like the idea any more than Mycroft seemed to. “It’s… it goes along with staying at the safe house again. It’s… it’s fine.” Greg muttered, feeling like he was trying to convince himself of that as well, taking Mycroft’s hand into his own and kissing his knuckles. “It’s all fine. Come on, we should have breakfast. I’ll make us omelettes. We’ll be fine, right?” Greg didn’t know what to do to make this situation any better, not sure if there was a way to do anything more than what he already was attempting to. He wanted to stay here, of course, but he knew it would drive Mycroft insane trying to keep him safe and close, but leaving would do just as much damage. Not feeling particularly hungry, he decided on splitting one with the other, knowing that not eating would just making them both even more miserable. Offering another cup of tea to Mycroft while he fixed himself some coffee, he set the omelet on the table and sat next to the other. “I wish there was more that I could do, My. God you know I do. But I love you, and I do love  _ you,  _ so… it’ll work. We’ve been too stubborn through everything else, we won’t stop now.”

          “I know you do, my heart.” Mycroft gave him a shaky smile and took a few bites as they ate in relative silence, cherishing these moments as they knew they might be numbered. 

*****

> **_Hey, mate. I know we’ve really only met that once, but I’m going to take you up on your offer. I need a pub night. -J_ **
> 
> **I gave it to you for a reason, I’ll send you an address, meet there soon? -G**
> 
> **_Sounds good. Ta, - J_ **

          Making his way to the pub, John rubbed his face, sighing as he took a deep breath and pulled the door open, walking inside and giving Greg a weak smile. 

          “Hey! Christ, you look like hell. What happened?” 

          “Yeah, well I feel like hell,” Taking a seat, he thanked the bartender as the man brought him a pint, setting it down on the table in front of him. “Well things had been sort of quiet since the first case with Sherlock, never mind the body parts in the fridge I keep finding,” Shaking his head, John took a swig of his drink, closing his eyes and letting the liquid slide down his throat and warm him, the alcohol buzzing through his veins. “So naturally, he found another case, and couldn’t leave me out. I was supposed to be on another date with Sarah, but I don’t think that’s going to happen again as Sherlock almost got us both killed by a Chinese gang or something, called the Black Lotus, hence the need for drinks. My life literally flashed before my life tonight…” 

          “Bloody hell, John. Next round’s on me.” Greg muttered, pushing a hand through his hair. “I know you served in the army, but… I don’t know, what else have you done?” 

          “Ta,” He chuckled, lifting his glass and taking another sip, setting it down and giving the man a tired smile. “Yeah, four years tour, but before that, I was a medical student. Actually studied with Mike Stamford at Barts, who introduced me to Sherlock, though I’m still wondering if that was a good thing or not. I’ll let you know when I figure it out. What about you though? I feel like I don’t know a thing about you, just that you are a Detective Inspector for the Yard, who for some reason puts up with Sherlock.” John asked, smiling he looked to the greying detective, who was handsome in his own right. He had been dating women, nothing too serious, but just looking at another attractive man struck a pang in his heart as he thought back to James. 

          “Sometimes your guess is as good as mine about that man,” Greg joked, taking a few chips that he had ordered earlier. “Personal life’s a bit complicated, but the basics are that I’ve known Sherlock and Mycroft for almost six years now. Sherlock showed up on a crime scene high as a kite, but could still solve it faster than we could. Mycroft and I started meeting up every other week to see how Sherlock was doing, I caught my wife cheating on me with one of my bosses after he had just started, broke up with her, and started dating Mycroft shortly after. My divorce with Caroline stalled out over time, but… I haven’t lived with her in over five years. It’s a bit odd, I know, but that’s my story in a nutshell.” That hadn’t been what John was expecting, his eyes going a bit wide and stopping mid swig from his beer, choking down what he had managed to sip. 

          “I’m sorry, I just… that’s a lot of information to take in all at once.” He knew that Greg had obviously been around for awhile, after all, he did tell him that he had known Sherlock for over five years, so it would stand that he knew the elder Holmes too, but to be dating him… John wasn’t sure if he was more shocked by the fact that Greg was dating a man, or that the man was Mycroft Holmes. “Sorry about your wife, mate…” He managed after a few moments, setting down his beer to let himself take a moment to catch up. The D.I. did say that it had been over five years, but that didn’t mean it still didn’t sting. “Never pegged you as…” he trailed off, not sure how he was going to finish that sentence, pursing his lips as he thought. 

          “Yeah… Thanks. Though I’ve sort of come to terms with everything with Caroline. I’ll always care about her, but if she doesn’t understand that we took a vow to be loyal to one another, then I certainly don’t miss her.” Greg shrugged off, picking up his pint again. “What, bi, or to be shagging a Holmes?” No, he decided the bi part didn’t shock him quite as much as the shagging a Holmes. 

          “The shagging a Holmes bit…” John chuckled, taking a few chips and humming as he nodded his approval for the food. 

          “To be honest? When I first met Mycroft, neither did I. He’s kind, once you get past all those layers he hides behind. You just have to get there first, but there was always a familiarity to him, so… it was like I had always known him.” 

          “Yeah, there must be some layers to get past. I mean, the kidnapping, dramatics and air of importance, those must be just the first few,” Smiling at Greg, he could see by the look on the man’s face that he might not have known about the kidnapping. “Um, sorry… it isn’t as bad as it sounds. He just sent a car, asked me to get in… sort of… and then took me to an abandoned warehouse where he tried to use my personal information against me.. Okay, well…” Now that he said it out loud, even if he was trying to tone it down, it sounded bad. “Okay, bad explanation.” 

          “I should be shocked and annoyed at that bit of news, but… that’s Mycroft. I think it's a Holmes thing to enjoy a bit of dramatics. It’s not all terrible though. You haven’t actually met Anthea, I don’t think. The woman who was at the scene with the cabbie, that was her body double. I didn't even know she had one. Anyway, the actual Anthea is fantastic, and she has the sweetest little boy that’s our Godson. He’s walking now too,” Greg said, perking up and digging out his mobile to show him different pictures, one coming up with Mycroft looking rather tender towards a small boy in his arms. John smiled as he saw the pictures, his heart melting as he thought about children. He had always wanted to be a father, but with his career in the military, and now being desperately single as Sherlock drove away anyone he tried to date, he knew that it would be a while before that happened. 

          “He’s adorable. I guess my first impression might be wrong for Mycroft, but I doubt he would ever show that side of himself to anyone. Sherlock said that his nickname at work is the ‘Ice man’.” Shaking his head as he took the last sip of his beer, John smiled when his glass was taken away and replaced by another. “Ta,” 

          “Well, you’re not wrong, Mycroft won’t show that side to anyone he doesn’t trust, and I’ve seen him at work. He can be… intense.” John saw that there was something more he was missing, that Greg didn’t quite seem all there, and he wasn’t sure if he should press it. “But that’s me, mostly. That’s my life.” 

          “It may not be my place, and just tell me to sod off if it isn’t, but you seem out of it. Is everything alright?” It was a talent he had, and came in handy in the medical field, especially with soldiers who didn’t like to tell you when something was of, instead pretending that everything was fine when it wasn’t. Maybe that was the reason that he got along so well with Sherlock, because he could read him when most couldn’t, or maybe it was just that most didn’t have the patience to be around him long enough to get a read. Greg might have that down to a science, but then again, he did say that he also didn’t know him better than John did. Taking a sip from his beer, he gave the man a moment, his eyes trained on the other as he waited. 

          “Ever since that case and the name Moriarty came up, Mycroft’s been really tense. He’s shutting me out, and I just.. I don’t know. It hurts. He’s not usually like this, but… he’s upset and I want to help him, but he won’t let me. I don’t know. I just feel like I’m waiting for the penny to drop, again. I hate it.” 

          “Again, I know it’s not my place, but have you just tried to talk to him about all of this? Like open up to him about how this whole thing makes you feel, and how him shutting you out isn’t the way to solve it, and that you both need to work on it together? If I know anything about a Holmes, it’s that Sherlock doesn’t ever talk about things. He figures them out on his own, in that big head of his, even if asking someone else for help might have fixed it faster. It’s almost as if they don’t think about how others could fix the problem, and the solution they have come up with is the only one.” John paused for a moment, frowning as he looked down to his glass, not sure how he had come up with that observation when he had only known Sherlock for these past few months, but he knew it was true. “Well, that’s Sherlock anyway. Not sure how similar the brothers are, but they are wicked smart, and that is their downfall.” 

          “We have tried to talk about it, to sort this out together. This guy is crazy though, and it’s damn hard to fight against crazy,” Greg sighed. “I’m doing what I can to help in my own way, though. Checking in with Anthea to see how he’s doing when he won’t answer my texts. Still making meals for him, which I know sounds horribly sappy, but it’s true. I know he’s checking on me too, so I try to take care of myself so it’s one less thing he will worry about. I keep my eyes on any cases that pop up to flag them if they even seem remotely attached to this guy, though it seems he has disappeared as far as I can tell. It’s the best that I can do right now to keep us bother safe. I just have to trust, you know? Trust my gut that he’ll be there after all this passes like he always has been.” John gave a small smile to the man, his heart already aching for him even if they had only known each other for just a few hours. Greg was a good man, and he really wished the best for him, and it was probably the sappy part of him wanting to reach out to the other, as he knew what it meant to be with someone when it wasn’t safe, especially being with another man when it wasn't safe. 

          “Well, if there is anything I can ever do, just shoot me a message, mate,” Reaching over, he placed a hand on the Detective's shoulder, giving it a light squeeze before taking another sip of his beer. The night was lighter after that, the conversation moving on, and as they had more and more to drink, the laughter and smiles seemed to flow. “I’m really glad I asked you out tonight, because bloody hell, I don’t think I could have survived the rest of my evening without something like this,” Chuckling, John closed out his tab and walked with the man as they stepped out into the cool air. “We’ll have to make this a regular thing… that is, if you don’t mind?” 

          “Honestly? Having someone else in the wings to deal with Sherlock being bored, who’s not me, is fantastic. Stress is way down. With the both of us contending with a Holmes now? Invite Molly Hooper along and we can have our own little support group.” John chuckled, saying his goodbyes and slipping into a taxi, waving to Greg as he left. 

*****

          Greg grinned, waving to John as he left before looking around, almost laughing as a car pulled up beside him. 

          “I know it’s your job, but it’s still crazy. Think you could take me to Mycroft’s just to check on him?” Greg asked, pausing in the door, thinking about sitting in back but moving to sit up front instead. Talking with John had emboldened him, and even if it was just for the night, he was going to make Mycroft face this with him by his side. Greg finished off the bottle of water the driver had somehow conjured for him on the way to the house, thanking him profusely as the other man simply smiled and shrugged, pulling away and leaving him outside the front door. The fact that he didn’t see any of his security team around prickled the back of Greg’s neck, but he also knew that they weren’t stopping him from showing up unannounced either. Willing his heart rate to slow down, the D.I. immediately reached for his keys to unlock the door before stopping himself. Would that really be for the best? To just let himself in like nothing had changed? Greg honestly didn’t know where they stood at the moment, so he elected for the safest route and knocked three times on the door, looking up where there was a hidden security camera waiting to see if Mycroft would answer or leave him to find his way home again. Greg blinked in surprise at the state that Mycroft greeted him in, leaning against the door once it opened and looking down at his own hands to make sure that he wasn’t equally so before reaching out to steady him. He was definitely better off since he wasn’t needing to lean on anything to stay upright. 

          “You’re drunk,” He stated bluntly, immediately spreading his hand across Mycroft’s chest to anchor him, wrapping an arm around the small of his back and leading the way back inside. “I’ve missed you, brilliant idiot. Let me get you a glass of water.” 

          “Well, I do believe I already have a tall glass of water,” Mycroft attempted to lean in, trying to press a kiss to his lips that Greg easily ducked out of with a chuckle. “Love, it’s been too long, please, don’t pull away… don’t…” 

          “You are drunk,” Greg repeated himself with a soft laugh, allowing his own alcohol induced fog to take away the hurt he felt from seeing Mycroft in such a state, and knowing exactly why he was so. Dropping off the politician at the counter, Greg got them both some water before joining him again, slowly running his hand up and down the other’s back as he sipped at his water as well. Greg hadn’t realised how much the posh townhouse had become a home to him until now, able to find everything, even after being away for a few months. He still couldn’t remember which cupboard things were in at the safe house. Finishing his water and waiting for Mycroft to do the same, Greg sighed as he leaned against the other man’s shoulder and closed his eyes, simply breathing in the man’s cologne before speaking. “Let me stay the night tonight. I’ve missed you too much to leave now.” 

          “I missed you too,” Greg smiled when he heard it, knowing better than to think that he would have felt any other way, but it was still nice to hear it. 

          “Come here,” He murmured after seeing that he wasn’t about to have any more water, pulling the man closer before kissing him slowly. The alcohol made every motion feel just a little more exaggerated as Greg lazily passed his tongue over Mycroft’s lower lip before sucking it between his teeth, pressing the taller man up against the counter as he slid his tongue into that mouth with a low moan. The man tasted like lingering scotch and something that was purely Mycroft. This was all he needed right now, they could figure everything else out later.

          “Now can I have my tall glass of water?” Mycroft muttered between kisses, chuckling as he tried to push away. Greg moaned, tightening his hold slightly on the other’s shirt before realising that he was probably just uncomfortable from being pressed up against the rather unforgiving counter. Making a less than graceful way to the spare bedroom, Greg pushed Mycroft down onto the bed before he started undressing him, not caring about being proper and carefully putting clothes away for now, more focused on the need of feeling his lover’s skin under his fingertips and his mouth once more. 

          “I love you. I need you.” Greg breathed, his mind still fuzzy from the drinks and feeling a little desperate now that he had Mycroft under him, biting a little harder than completely necessary as he made his way down the man’s body and sucked his cock into his mouth, nearly choking on the action but not caring. He needed this now, before everything fell apart again. 

          “Gods, Gregory!” Mycroft’s hands went to the sheets, his knuckles white as he held on. Greg moaned around him, feeling the man buck and shiver under his attention, and using all of his tricks to get Mycroft exactly as he wanted. Slicking two of his fingers up with spit, he firmly pressed them into his lover, knowing he couldn’t really hurt him, but not wanting to cause too much pain. 

          “You will always be mine.” Greg purred between light nips along the man’s thigh, the warm buzz of alcohol that had emboldened him starting to fade, but not enough to make him shy away from being so dominant. They had been apart for too long, and if this was going to be their drunken night together before having to be apart again, then so be it. Teasing Mycroft’s balls with his tongue, he sucked each into his mouth before returning his attention to the man’s shaft, licking a lazy stripe up the underside before sucking it back down, humming low as he looked up the other’s body, wanting to see him fall apart. 

          “Et luna, et stellis mea… Obsecro, amor, hoc opus.”  _ My moon and stars, please, my love. Please I need this. “ _ Obsecro, lunam et stellas. Te amo Gregori,”  _ Please, my moon and stars. I love you Gregory.  _ Greg still didn’t understand Latin, but he recognised his nickname and of course Mycroft’s statement of love, humming softly as the other brushed his hand against his cheek. It was such a difference from how rough Greg was being that it almost made him falter and question if this was what the other really wanted or not. Feeling how tense Mycroft was on the edge of his own orgasm, though, assured him that he was in the right. Gripping onto his lover’s hip, hard enough to leave a collection of small bruises, Greg swirled his tongue around the head a few times before sucking him down once more, pressing firmly against his prostate to draw out that orgasm they were both so desperately chasing after.

          “A-Ah, Gregory!” Greg smirked to himself as he felt Mycroft clinch a moment before he came into his mouth, taking everything the other gave him, and mindful to clean him up with gentle laps of his tongue before kissing his way back up to lay beside him.  “Gregory, love, please, I want you.” 

          “You have me, every part.” He murmured back to Mycroft, realising that in his rush to have his partner once more, he hadn’t even bothered with his own clothes, his shirt partially untucked and his own cock pressing hard against the front of his trousers where there was already a small patch of damp from his precum. Scrambling to at least get partially out of his clothes, Greg kicked his trousers and pants off to the side before pressing into Mycroft’s body once more, knowing he was spent but still wanting more. He had always wanted it rough, always talked about that dominant side from his past lives... Well, Greg was more than happy to give it to him. Mycroft leaned in, trailing his tongue along his jaw and up to his ear, biting down and trailing his hot breath over his skin. 

          “I know you still are aching for this, so use me, take what you want, do what you need to get off,” He knew it wasn’t going to take him very long before he finished as well, but that didn’t stop him from moving to pin Mycroft down, slicking himself up and thrusting into him hard and fast, biting hard on the other’s shoulder. He needed this, to be as close as physically possible to his lover, if just for a little bit longer before the drinks wore off and he could regret using sex as a way of haphazardly patching things together. This was Mycroft though, and the moans and gasps weren’t faked like they had been with Caroline, and the way he arched up into him as Greg’s hard pace stuttered and he poured himself into the man was honest and genuine. Greg had barely caught his breath before Mycroft was up and getting dressed again, frowning slightly when he spoke, and sure for a moment that he had misheard him. “I think you should leave, Gregory.” 

          “My,” He said softly, looking down at his now horribly wrinkled shirt that he had never quite gotten out of, sure he could pop upstairs and pick out another. Though it only took one glance back at Mycroft, his back to him, to tell Greg that the idea was out of the question. “Mycroft, come on. Let’s just have this night together before we have to get back to pretending that we don't know each other.” He tried to argue, sitting up and feeling his own anger starting to build as Mycroft continued to ignore him, his old fears and frustration at their current situation all starting to blend together. “Mycroft, look at me. I won’t be treated like a one night stand by my own husband!”

          “Gregory, please don’t argue. You know that we can’t do this, and I’m sorry, tonight was a lapse in my judgement. I shouldn’t have let it happen.” Greg froze, feeling sick as he listen to Mycroft speak, saying that he had regretted it, and that he shouldn’t argue, like this whole things wasn’t ridiculous to begin with. 

          “Mycroft. Look at me!” He said louder, standing from the bed and ignoring the fact that he was half naked at the moment. “You keep telling yourself that we can’t do this, that we’re in too much danger, but the only person in danger right now is yourself! I’ve never seen you drunk before like you were when I got here, you’re self destructing! That’s not going to keep me safe! You’re wrong, you’re my husband, we’re a team. I’m staying.” 

          “Just because I decide to have a few drinks on my own does not mean that I am self destructing. I have seen you off having drinks yourself before, so this is nothing new. Now, I will ask you only once more, please go home, Gregory.” 

          “Never too drunk to stand!” Greg argued, clenching his hands at his side before grabbing his clothes and putting them on quickly, not bothering to tuck his shirt in as he quickly did the zipper and belt, glaring back at Mycroft. “I am home!  _ This  _ is our home! My clothes are upstairs in our bedroom!” He found himself yelling, if only because he was genuinely fearful of what was happening. He wasn’t sure if he could stomach another relationship falling apart like his had with Caroline, even if he knew for a fact that Mycroft would never cheat on him, ever. “Mycroft, please. Don’t do this. Don’t leave me too.” 

          “You know that I meant the safe house, where you are staying. I am not leaving you, Gregory. It was your idea in the first place that we split up, living in separate places and not be seen together. Having you here, it’s dangerous. Moriarty could be watching, and if he finds out that we are together, he  _ will  _  use you to get to me, and Sherlock. I will not have that happening. Now please, do not make this any harder than it already is, please… just go back to the safe house.” 

          “You were terrified! You would have come to the same conclusion yourself. You can’t tell me that this was my fault, and then say we can’t be seen together in the same breath.” Greg said with a frown, though his anger was starting to subside just slightly, as he saw how hard Mycroft was trying to keep himself together through everything and was starting to fail. “Mycroft. Come here, I'll go back, but only after I know that you’ll be okay tonight,” he offered gently, even though there was a measure of selfishness in that request, wanting to hold his lover just a little longer. “I love you. I want to keep you safe just as much as you want to keep me safe.” 

          “I am not saying it is your fault, I am saying that it was your idea. I will be fine. I have been fine.” 

          “You really haven't’ been,” Greg argued under his breath, though he was realising quickly that this was a useless fight. For all his love for the man, Mycroft was even more stubborn than Sherlock, and he knew the man wasn’t about to give into him, no matter how hard he tried to get him to. Sitting back down on the corner of the bed to put his shoes back on, Greg didn’t say another word as he passed by Mycroft to leave, knowing himself well enough not to stop again till he was out the door and in front of the gate before turning and punching the brick post it was attached to, immediately cursing as the driver of the black car jumped out to make sure he hadn’t broken anything. “Just take me back to the safe house. I can mostly move my hand, it’s fine. I’ll be fine,” He muttered, the other man offering him an apologetic smile as he opened the passenger door to invite him to ride beside him again. 


	36. XXXV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we are slowly making our way through cannon, and we're not sure yet how far the story will extend past then, but we have thought about going back, once this is all finished, and making some change to the beginning. When we started this, we didn't expect it to go on for as long as it did, and we feel there are some bits in the beginning that were a bit rushed, or just not right, as we hadn't settled into this AU world or our characters just yet. We have some ideas of parts we'd like to revisit, but what are some suggestions from you readers? Which parts seemed rushed, or not right, or what would you like to see revisited and hashed out a bit more? Let us know in the comments!

          Laying down on the couch, facing the back, Sherlock pulled his dressing gown tighter around him, letting out a loud, dramatic sigh from boredom. It wasn’t until he heard the other shuffling about in the flat that he looked over his shoulder, frowning as he watched John put on his jacket. 

          “Where are you going?” 

          “Out. I need some air,” Of course, just because he had started shooting the wall, the man now had to leave, Mrs. Hudson bustling up the stairs and almost running straight into him. “‘Scuse me, Mrs…”

          “Oh, sorry, love!” 

          “Sorry.” Scoffing, Sherlock turned back around, pulling the cushion under his head, nearer to the back of the sofa and curling in on himself tighter. After a few seconds, he stretched his legs out straight, he turned his head to acknowledge Mrs. Hudson, but looked away again without a word. 

          “Have you two had a little domestic?” Grumbling, he stands up, walking over the coffee table and going to the window, just as the door below opens and closes, John taking his leave. Everyone was always saying such things, assuming they were together, which in his mind, they still were. He never corrected them, though John never seem to stop correcting them, not that it did him a bit of good as they didn’t listen anyway. “Ooh, it’s a bit nippy out there. He should have wrapped himself up a bit more.” 

          “Look at that, Mrs. Hudson. Quiet, calm, peaceful.” Grimacing, he took a deep breath as his eyes scanned the street. “Isn’t it hateful?” 

          “Oh, I’m sure something will turn up, Sherlock. A nice murder - that’ll cheer you up,” 

          “Can’t come too soon.” 

          “Hey. What’ve you done to my bloody wall?!” Looking over to to where he had spray painted a smiley face and shot the wall just a few minutes ago, Sherlock gave an exaggerated smile, admiring his handiwork. “I’m putting this on your rent, young man!” Watching as she stormed off down the stairs, he let out a long sigh as he turned to face the front of the flat. It happened in an instant, a massive explosion going off in the street behind him, the windows blown out and the blast hurling him to the floor. Groaning, he could feel the pain from the wind being knocked out of him settle into his lungs, the ringing in his ears sharp, and his skin riddled with cuts from the glass and brick that had been tossed about. 

          “Well, at least I’m not bored.” Letting out a deep grunt, Sherlock lifted himself from the floor, his body aching as he stood, dusting off the debris and frowning as he looked about. Moving to sit in his chair, he knew Lestrade was likely to be along any moment, and instead of going to try and speak with the officers, and arguing that he worked with the NSY so they could let him see the scene, he would just wait. Brushing the rubble off his seat, he crossed his legs and brought his hands to a steeple as he thought, easily slipping into his mind. He wasn’t sure how long it had been, but as predicted, Lestrade walked straight into the flat, out of breath from jogging and running up his stairs, looking as if he was utterly terrified something had happened to him. 

          “Are you alright?!” 

          “Catastrophic trauma to the brain or heart, Lestrade, remember? I am fine.” 

          “Well, it’s not like anyone’s gone out and given me a book on it. ‘Immortals 101: how to contend with pompous cocks who think they rule the world and everyone in it.’” Lestrade muttered, moving through the flat which was apparent by the sound of crunching glass. “And just because you’re not dead doesn’t mean you couldn’t still be hurt. I’m assuming John was out then? Since he’s not here and you’re being… normal.”

          “Yes, he left just before the explosion. Said he was just going out, didn’t look too thrilled when I was shooting the gun in the flat, or something.” Shrugging, Sherlock stood and oved over to where his violin normally sat by the window, looking down at the instrument and surprised that it seemed relatively unscathed. Picking it up, he did notice the scratches in the wood, and the E string was broken, but other than that, it seemed fine. Walking about with it in his hands, he plucked away at the strings, his mind off in a million directions. “You seem a bit angry, more than normal. You and my brother have a little domestic? That’s what Mrs. Hudson asked me when John walked out cross, so I’m assuming that’s a normal cause for anger, a row between you two possibly?”  

          “You do realise you just told me how to kill you, right?” Lestrade snapped, Sherlock giving a short huff of laughter. 

          “We both know you don’t have it in you to kill someone Lestrade.” 

          “Yes, Sherlock, we had a fight. He’s been paranoid ever since Moriarty showed up again, and nothing good has come from any of it. Now leave it… please.” 

          “Yes, well I have tried to warn you before that my brother can be quite dense,” Smirking, he looked to the other and saw that it really was bothering him, and instead of pressing it at the moment, he decided to leave it be, sighing dramatically and dropping back down into his chair. 

          “This explosion was done on purpose. It was directed to get someone’s attention. This isn’t a part of the Lotus case, is it?” 

          “No, Lestrade, I know you are smarter than that, so I hope this row hasn’t completely melted your brain. The Lotus case was solved, finished, put away. I’m not sure what this is, but I’m certain we'll find out. Now, you do realise that my pig of a brother will be showing up shortly, right? Just thought I’d give you a heads up since you seem to be determined to avoid him.”

          “It was an international gang, you know. I wouldn’t put it past them to retaliate.” Lestrade’s radio came through, calling him to the other building for something they had found, and he wanted to go with, but he knew it was better to stay put, especially with Mycroft coming. “It’s flipped, actually. He’s determined to avoid me. I’d say play nice, but at this point… I don’t care. Do at least be nice to Mrs. Hudson. I’ll let you know once we’ve got anything.” 

          “I wouldn’t dream of ever being anything but kind to Mrs. Hudson. She’s far more dangerous than you will ever know.” Sherlock smirked, knowing that his brother had showed up outside, just as predicted, leaving Lestrade scrambling for the door. “As for my brother, I won’t make any promises.” He didn’t even bother to look up when Lestrade left, just sitting in his chair with his violin, waiting for his next guest to arrive. 

          “Sherlock.” He didn’t move, save to follow Mycroft with his eyes, reading everything he needed to know before returning his attention back to his violin, plucking lightly at the strings. 

          “Brother dearest, trouble in paradise and home I see?” He mocked, using the pet name Mycroft used often when being patronising. Standing he grabbed his violin case so he could fix the broken string, wanting to focus his attention on other things instead of his brother. “You know what my answer is going to be. I don’t do legwork for you. Which, you clearly need plenty of.” 

          “That is none of your business, Sherlock, and you would be wise to keep your comments to yourself.” Mycroft walked over to John’s chair, brushing off the rubble and taking a seat, his features scowling as he didn’t like the idea of his brother in John’s spot. “Sherlock, this is a very important matter, and I think it would be wise if you helped. There are lives at stake here,” 

          “Then you’re not doing your job very well, are you?” Sherlock spat immediately, still irritated that his brother was in John chair. It didn’t matter that he’d had it before the man came back to him, it was the man’s favourite chair, therefore, his. “Yes, Lestrade was already here telling me about your latest mistakes. Perhaps not telling, but he was here, and said much of the same.” Shrugging off as he turned his attention to the string, he took as much time as he could doing it so to make it painfully clear that Mycroft wasn’t going to win on this. “My answer is no.” 

          “Sherlock, you are treading on some mighty thin ice. You  _ will  _ drop the subject of Gregory, or I will have a chat with John.” Mycroft sneered. “Where is your sweet doctor, Sherlock? Off with another woman I take it? He has been seeing others, has he not? I take it he has no interest in getting back with you? That’s too bad.” 

          “Mine’s not married.” Sherlock stated bluntly, not caring that it was a shot at the jugular, but if Mycroft was going to drag him unwittingly into the middle of it all, he was much more willing to be on Lestrade’s side, than his brothers. “John was out, yes, but he was safe. His phone battery died overnight, and he forgot his charging cord when he left.” He pointed out, plucking at the strings to tune it, the task hard with his brother’s blabbering. “He’d have woken up at his normal time, seen it on the news and given the length of time it takes for the Underground this time of morning, he should be arriving any time now.” Sherlock looked up to the door, the man walking into the flat on queue, looking rather distressed as he looked about. “John.” 

          “I saw it on the telly. Are you okay?” John asked anxiously, checking him over before noticing his brother was there as well. 

          “Hmm? What?” Looking around at the mess of broken glass and scattered paperwork, he shrugged it off, turning his attention back to his brother, plucking his violin strings. “Oh, yes. Fine. Gas leak, apparently. I can’t.” 

          “Can’t?” Mycroft sneered, obviously still angry by his earlier comment, but Sherlock didn’t care.” 

          “The stuff I’ve got on is just too big. I can’t spare the time. " He lied easily, ignoring John’s glance of disbelief and wishing he could at least try to be better at lying sometimes.

          "Never mind your usual trivia. This is of national importance." Flicking his fingers across the strings again, he to take another dig his brother, hoping it would make him leave faster. Since Lestrade was off the table now that John was back and he didn’t feel like getting lectured by him as well, he decided for the next best thing. "How's the diet?" 

          "Fine. Perhaps  _ you _ can get through to him, John." Mycroft glared at Sherlock for a moment before turning his attention to the Doctor instead. "I'm afraid my brother can be very intransigent." 

          "If you're so keen, why don't  _ you _ investigate it?" 

          "No-no-no. I can't possibly be away from the office for any length of time - not with the Korean elections so..." Mycroft trailed off as John looked him in surprise, Sherlock raising his head to look at his brother with a faint smirk. "Well, you don't need to know about that, do you. Besides, a case like this, it requires... legwork." 

          "How's Sarah, John? How was the lilo?" Sherlock asked bluntly in front of Mycroft, giving another subtle jab at his brother about the difference between his John and Lestrade. Mycroft didn’t bite though, instead looking down at his pocket watch with a sigh and pocketing it once more.

          "Sofa, Sherlock. It was the sofa." 

          "Oh yes, of course." Sherlock rolled his eyes, his point still being made that while John may be dating, he wasn’t all that serious with any of them. 

_           "How _ ...? Oh, never mind." John groaned in frustration with his life being laid out in front of him by the two brothers, sitting down on the coffee table while Mycroft continued on.

          "Sherlock's business seems to be booming since you and he became... pals." Sherlock gave him a glare, daring him to continue with that again and see just what he would bring up next. "What's he like to live with? Hellish, I imagine.”

          "I'm never bored." 

          "Good! That's good, isn't it." Continuing to glare at his brother, Mycroft ignored it to stand and offer him the file. Not moving, Mycroft turned and gave it to John instead. "Andrew West, known as Westie to his friends. A civil servant, found dead on the tracks at Battersea Station this morning with his head smashed it." 

          "Jumped in front of a train?" John asked, flipping through the file as he listened to what the elder Holmes had to say.

          "Seems the logical assumption." 

          "But..." 

          "But?" Mycroft played dumb to see what John would do next, and Sherlock found himself silently pressing John to keep asking questions. He knew he wasn’t dumb, not really, it was just hard to remember that sometimes when nearly everything always felt so obvious to him. 

"Well, you wouldn't be here if it was just an accident." 

          "The M.O.D is working on a new missile defense system - the Bruce-Partington Programme, it's called. The plans for it were on a memory stick." Sherlock didn’t hide the smirk that danced across his face when John laughed at Mycroft, having now started on readying his bow to play. It was always a wonderful feeling when someone was willing to stand up to his brother as well and now cower in fear over his hollow half threats of harm. 

          "That wasn't very clever." 

          "It's not the only copy." Mycroft was clearly on the defensive, making Sherlock even happier knowing he would no doubt leave soon realizing that John was still and would always be on his side, even if not at his side just yet. "But it  _ is _ a secret, and missing." 

          "Top secret?" 

          "Very. We think West must have taken the memory stick. We can't possibly risk it falling into the wrong hands." Turning back towards his brother, he sighed, watching the man at the window. "You've got to find those plans, Sherlock. Don't make me order you." 

          Sherlock huffed as he set his violin onto his shoulder, his bow hovering just above the strings ready to play him out "I'd like to see you try." 

          "Think it over. Goodbye John. See you very soon." Sherlock watched Mycroft and John shake hands before playing a handful of horrid notes for no other reason but to chase his brother faster out of their flat, though they weren’t left alone for long before Lestrade called them to his office with the promise of a case that he’d love.

*****

          Greg had been waiting down in the main lobby for Sherlock and John since he had called them, running through everything that he already had on the case and loving it when he was actually right for once before even getting inside the building. “You like the funny cases, don’t you? The surprising ones.” He asked Sherlock as they came in, immediately siding up with him as he lead the way to his office. 

          “Obviously,” Sherlock didn’t seem amused, but that was besides the point.

          “You’ll love this. That explosion,”

          “Gas leak, yes?

          “No.” Greg announced triumphantly, ignoring the glare shared between Donovan and Sherlock as he continued on with his explanation. “No. Made to  _ look _ like one.” 

          “What?” John asked, the last into his office as the D.I. gestured over to the envelope on his desk clearly written out to Sherlock. 

          “Hardly anything left of the place except a strong box, a  _ very _ strong box, and inside it was this.” He explained, though he had a few questions about said box that he was still working to sort out himself, but the envelope was taking precedent over it for now.

_           “ _ You haven’t opened it?” Sherlock asked as he reached out for it, Greg shaking his head in response.

          “It’s addressed to you, isn’t it? We’ve X-rayed it. It’s not booby-trapped.” He pointed out, that thought having already crossed his mind when they had first retrieved the package and noticed that there was more than just a note inside.

          “How reassuring,” Sherlock drawled, taking the envelope to the lamp in the corner to examine it closely for a moment, though for what Greg didn’t know. _ “ _ Nice stationery. Bohemian. From the Czech Republic. No fingerprints?” 

          “No.” Greg confirmed, wondering what any of that had to do with anything but having learned over the years not to question Sherlock any more than absolutely necessary. 

          “She used a fountain pen. A Parker Duofold – iridium nib.”

          “She?” John asked, only to be greeted with a sarcastic ‘obviously’ which he parroted back. Any other time Greg would have laughed, but now certainly wasn’t the time as he watched Sherlock carefully open the envelope and tip out an obnoxiously pink phone that looked a bit too familiar for comfort.

          “But that’s – that’s the phone, the pink phone.” John muttered, speaking for them all as Greg looked over to the doctor.

          “What, from the Study in Pink?”

          “Well, obviously it’s not the same phone but it’s supposed to look like-  _ The Study in Pink _ ? You read his blog?” Sherlock asked in shock, Donovan snickering from the doorway where she had been dropping off some files for him to sign off on later. Everyone knew this bombing was a much bigger deal, though right now they were allowing the press to continue with the belief that it was just a gas line explosion until they had more information about what they were dealing with.

          “Course I read his blog! We  _ all _ do. Did you  _ really _ not know that the Earth goes round the Sun?” Greg asked in disbelief, giving a quick glare to Donovan when she laughed while Sherlock leveled one at John before they all returned their focus on the mobile in front of them.

_           “ _ It isn’t the same phone. This one’s brand new. Someone’s gone to a lot of trouble to make it  _ look _ like the same phone, which means your blog has a far wider readership.” Sherlock said with an accompanying glare back at John as he turned on the phone, the screen lighting up before notifying them that it had a message waiting for them. Playing the message over the speaker so they could all hear it, they were greeted by four short pips and one longer one, Greg frowning in frustration at what on earth that was supposed to be.

          “Is that it?” John asked, looking over to Sherlock for an explanation

          “No. That’s  _ not _ it.” He explained, pulling up a photo as Greg joined them to see what it was. 

          “What the hell are we supposed to make of that? An estate agent’s photo and the bloody Greenwich pips!” He cried out in frustration, making absolutely no sense of the shot of an empty room that, as far as he knew, could have been from anywhere.

          “It’s a warning.” Sherlock mused, staring off for a moment before John was able bring him back so he could explain it to him. “Some secret societies used to send dried melon seeds, orange pips, things like that. Five pips. They’re warning us it’s going to happen again.” Sherlock looked down at the phone again before gripping it tight in his hand and turning towards the door. “And I’ve seen this place before.”

          “Hang on.  _ What’s _ gonna happen again?” John asked, already following Sherlock out into battle, though against what, they didn’t quite know just yet.

          “ _ Boom!”  _ Sherlock turned around with a quick wave of his hands to get his point across, Greg muttering a curse as he grabbed his coat and went after them. Offering to drive as they made their way out the front, somehow Sherlock had already hailed them a passing cab and gave their address to Baker Street. Still not offering any sort of explanation as to what was going on, Greg was left to his thoughts as to what they could have possibly gotten themselves into now as they pulled up and he quickly paid the driver, following Sherlock until he stopped outside the door for the basement flat of the building, calling out for Mrs. Hudson to meet them, the hairs already starting to prickle along the back of his neck as Sherlock worked to open the padlock on the door.

          “You had a look, didn’t you, Sherlock, when you first came to see about your flat.” Mrs Hudson asked, blissfully unaware of just what was going on, and none of them seemed particularly rushed to change that at the moment.

          “The door’s been opened recently.” Sherlock muttered mostly to himself, Mrs. Hudson only tutting more about how that couldn’t have been as Sherlock moved to unlock the door itself.

          “I can’t get anyone interested in this flat. It’s the damp, I expect. That’s the curse of basements. I had a place once when I was first married. Black mould all up the walls…” She continued on as they opened the door, Greg currently too focused on the case at hand to apologize for closing the door in the old woman’s face before following Sherlock and John down the stairs to the basement living room. The space certainly feeling stale and damp as they looked around, only now they were greeted by a pair of shoes placed perfectly in the center of the room, obviously waiting for the trio to find them.

_           “ _ Shoes.” John was the first to blurt out, Greg glancing over at him for a moment even though it was the exact same thought that had gone through his mind as well. Opening his mouth when Sherlock started towards them, the D.I. kept silent when John beat him to a warning. “He’s a bomber, remember.” Nodding, Sherlock continued forward again, getting down on his hands and knees to get as close as he could to the shoes without touching them until they all jumped as a phone began to ring. Breathing out a muttered curse as he watched Sherlock nearly do the same while moving to stand, he took out the pink phone before answering it so they could all hear it.

_           “ _ Hello sexy.” A terrified woman’s voice answered slowly, Greg and John glancing at one another as they listened to the person on the other side trying to speak through her sobs.

_           “ _ Who’s this?” Sherlock pressed, though the woman continued on without an answer.

          “I’ve sent you a little puzzle just to say hi.” Greg could already feel his pulse starting to rise and his stomach knot just from the anxiety of what the hell they had gotten themselves into.

          “Who’s talking? Why are you crying?” Sherlock tried again, even starting to sound concerned for the other which was quite rare indeed. 

          “I-I’m not crying. I’m typing and this stupid bitch is reading it out.”

          “The curtain rises.” Sherlock muttered to himself, Greg and John turning their attention from the phone to the detective.

          “What?”

          “Nothing.”

          “No, what did you mean?” John nearly commanded in a stage whisper, Sherlock only just turning enough to show that he was paying attention as they continued to listen to the woman on the other line read off whatever she was being told to do.

          “I’ve been expecting this for some time.” That was all it took for Greg to realize that they had gotten into some horrible trouble, if Sherlock knew what they were facing now. This must have been Moriarty, what Mycroft had warned him against again and again. But he knew that nothing good would come from contacting him now, only to be told to drop it and probably lock himself away in a bunker somewhere ridiculous, and so Greg clinched his jaw as he resigned himself to do whatever was needed from here on out to help Sherlock defeat this man, this spider as Mycroft had described him so many times, before he could kill anyone else.

          “Twelve hours to solve my puzzle, Sherlock or I’m going to be so naughty.”

*****

          Ever since the first explosion, it had been non stop for Greg and his team. Three people dressed in explosives, enough to level a building, and three solved cases in less than two days. They had thought they had been successful in their last case, having solved it and put in contact with the poor old woman being held hostage, but she had said too much, spoken out of turn apparently, and had been killed along with eighteen others. That had been hard on all of them, especially the look on Sherlock’s face as he realized that he had failed even though he had won, that he had done his best and still couldn’t save those people. Greg had nearly made himself sick that night going through cigarettes on steps to his safehouse, eventually joined by his guard Kyle to just get him to talk and not give himself nicotine poisoning before trying to get some sleep. Greg knew nothing about art save the absolute basics he had learned in grade school, so he was even more useless than normal as he stood to the side as Sherlock worked to solve the latest puzzle given to them, simply there to make whatever arrest was necessary and send his disposal team which was now on constant standby to go save another life.

          “It’s a fake. It  _ has _ to be.” Sherlock argued, cycling between glaring at the painting in front of them and his mobile in his hand.

          “That painting has been subjected to every test known to science.” Ms.Wenceslas, a terribly snooty curator who Greg was starting to hope he got the excuse to arrest just to put her in her place, shot back, all but looking down her nose at Sherlock even though he was much taller than him.

          “It’s a very  _ good _ fake, then.” Sherlock countered as he turned to glare at her. “You  _ know _ about this, don’t you? This is  _ you _ , isn’t it?” He snapped, Greg starting to wonder if Sherlock was actually starting to realize that real lives were on the line or if he just didn’t want to ruin his winning streak. 

_           “ _ Inspector, my time is being wasted. Would you mind showing yourself and your friends out?” Ms. Wenceslas asked, drawing the D.I. out of his thoughts as he bit back the urge to tell her no and to shut up already. God he really needed a burger and a good night’s sleep. And a handle of whisky, but he would get to that some other time. That damned pink phone started ringing again, drawing everyone’s attention to it as Sherlock answered it and immediately put it to speaker.

          “The painting is a fake. It’s a fake. That’s why Woodbridge and Cairns were killed.” Sherlock answered, getting more and more agitated as his response went unanswered save the sound of someone breathing on the other side. “Oh, come on. Proving it’s just the detail. The painting is a fake. I’ve solved it. I’ve figured it out. It’s a fake! That’s the answer. That’s why they were killed.” Greg bit his lip as Sherlock took a deep breath and did what he could to calm himself down, trying to answer it again from the top. “Okay, I’ll prove it. Give me time. Will you give me time?”

_           “ _ Ten…” A little child’s voice said over the phone, Greg thinking he was about to be sick right there in the middle of the room as Sherlock spun around to look closely at the painting again.

_           “ _ It’s a kid. Oh, God, it’s a  _ kid _ !” He gasped, all of his thoughts immediately on Miles, his sweet little boy that Anthea had sent him a video of the night before of him taking off, faster than his little legs could carry him and laughing as he stumbled and fell, on the first time that he had met Sherlock lost outside of the Pantheon, tugging at his side asking for help to find his brother. The little girl he and Mycroft wanted so bad, how they had always pictured her with his face and Mycroft’s hair, everything they had wanted and could be lost right then and there because of this bastard who didn’t care who he used to get his way, to get his entertainment for the hour until he grew bored again.

          “Nine…” 

          “It’s a countdown. He’s giving me time.” Sherlock muttered, pulling Greg’s attention only slightly back to reality from his mind, though that wasn’t any better as he cursed and had to walk away

          “The painting is a fake, but how can I prove it? How?  _ How?”  _ Sherlock cried, the little boy continuing to count down as Sherlock turned back towards the curator and pinned her down in place with a glare. “This kid will die.  _ Tell _ me why the painting is a fake.  _ Tell me! _ ” He yelled before changing his mind, realizing the fault from before. “No, shut up. Don’t say anything. It only works if I figure it out. Must be possible. Must be staring me in the face.” Sherlock muttered, pacing around as the child’s voice rang out continuing to count down to his own death. If this was a failure, by God, Greg was going to lose his job strangling the woman standing behind Sherlock right then and there.

          “Six…”

          “Woodbridge knew, but  _ how _ ?” Sherlock hissed, continuing to frantically look around the painting trying to find something, anything to answer with.

          “Five…” 

          “It’s speeding up!” Greg cried out, not sure if he was going to throw up, have a heart attack, or a stroke.

          “Sherlock,” John urged, watching the man continue to study the painting before he suddenly started laughing.

_           “ _ Oh!”

          “Four…”

          “In the planetarium! You heard it too. Oh, that is brilliant! That is gorgeous!” Sherlock all but danced, giving the phone to John before taking his own out as he started typing away at the screen.

_           “ _ Three…”

          “ _ What’s _ brilliant? What is?” John pressed, trying to get Sherlock to just answer the question and stop gloating for once.

_           “ _ This is beautiful. I love this!”

          “Two…”

          “ _ Sherlock!”  _ Greg snapped, ready to kill the man as well, even if it was impossible, he would damn well try and take pleasure in it.

_           “ _ The Van Buren Supernova!” Sherlock yelled into the pink phone as he grabbed it from John’s hand again, everyone holding their breath as they waited to find out if they were right or not.

_           “ _ Please. Is somebody there? Somebody help me!” The poor child cried out, Sherlock breathing a sigh of relief as he passed the mobile off to Greg.

          “There you go. Go find out where he is and pick him up.” He directed, already explaining the solution to those still paying attention while Greg immediately held the phone up to his ear.

          “Hey, hey, lad, hey, mate. It’s okay. You’ll be okay. My name’s Greg. I’m with the police. What’s your name?”

          “Louis,” He answered softly, starting to hiccup from his quiet sobs. Digging out his own mobile, he started to send out a flurry of texts, getting everyone in place to act as soon as they got the information they needed. 

          “Hi, Louis, hey. You’re a brave lad, you are. We’re gonna find you, but I need your help, okay?” Greg continued gently, all but running out of the building as he dialed Donovan’s number and held the phone up to his other ear once he was outside. “Can you tell us where you are? We’re going to find you, it’s going to be okay, Louis. I’m gonna stay right here on the phone with you until you’re back with your Mum and Dad.”

 

          It was another two hours before Greg was done for the day, Sherlock not having received another puzzle but he was sure he would be called again once he did. Having returned Louis to his family and made sure that Ms. Wenceslas would be charged with as many crimes as possible, knowingly helping or not be damned, Greg pulled out his phone one last time as he climbed into his car and started towards Anthea’s. He was sure he wouldn’t be turned away, but asking was still the polite thing to do.

> **I know it’s dinnertime, but these cases that Sherlock’s been solving have been hell. The last hostage with a little boy. Can I come hold Miles? Please? - GL**
> 
> **_Of course, you know you are always welcome here. -A_ **
> 
> **I just know that it's late. Thank you. GL**

          Greg sighed as he tossed his phone into the passenger seat, taking a moment at a red light to lean his head back and breathe for the first time in days. He wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to breathe before driving back into all of this insanity, so he was going to take advantage of every second he could with his family. Of course, he wished he could just go back and curl up into Mycroft’s chest and have the man promise him it would be alright, but that wasn’t an option, and he wasn’t sure if it would be again any time soon, if ever since things had effectively gone pear shaped. Arriving at Anthea’s a short time later, Greg parked and grabbed his phone, heading to the door and knocking lightly in case they were trying to get Miles to bed. If nothing else, just not being alone after all of this would help. He was caught by surprise at the hug even though he knew he shouldn’t have been, Anthea pulling him in as soon as she opened the door. 

          “I’m sorry my dear,” Returning her hug, he tried to allow himself to be comforted, but it was still hard, all the fears from earlier today jumbled in his head, but being around someone else who understood and was willing and patient ear to him certainly helped. 

          “Thank you,” He breathed before wincing as Miles screeched from inside, watching as the toddler ran as fast as he could down the hall towards them. Pulling away, he laughed for the first time in weeks as he held out his arms, kneeling down to catch the boy. “Christ, lad, you’re loud. I’ve missed you too buddy.” He greeted with a smile, scooping Miles up into his arms and hugging him tight to his chest. “God I’ve missed you…” 

          “I can’t remember, did you know that he’s learned new words now?” Anthea stood by their side, her hand rubbing across her son’s back. “Miles, who’s that?” She pointed to Ryan, the child turning and looking down. 

          “Dada!” He shouted, smiling as he looked back to her for approval. 

          “Right, that’s dada, and who am I?” Pointing to herself, she watched as his face lit up and he moved his lips to try and form the next word. 

          “Mama!” 

          “Yes that’s right my angel. Now, this one is a little harder, who’s this?” Turning, she placed a hand on his shoulder, the tot’s attention coming to him, as he brought both his hands to rest on Gregory’s cheeks, holding his face. 

          “Geg!” Greg couldn’t help himself, hearing the little boy try so hard for his name in the most adorable way possible was his breaking point as he found himself sobbing while laughing. 

          “I’ll take it,” He forced out, shifting his hold on Miles as he hugged him again and tried to wipe away the tears that wouldn’t stop falling down his face. “Christ, I’m sorry. I just.. These last few days…” Greg choked out, muttering thanks as a few tissues found their way into his hand as he tried to will it all to stop. 

          “No cry uncle Geggy,” The toddler babbled, which only made it all start up again with another wet laugh. 

          “All I could think of… that poor boy’s voice… was him. Just the thought of Miles… God. I couldn’t.” Greg shook his head, thankful when Anthea took her son from his arms to give him a chance to try and recover. “All I could think of was, what if it was mine, yeah?” 

          “Gregory, I am so very sorry that you had to deal with something like that, Moriarty is just awful, and I knew he didn’t have a moral compass, but to use a child… that’s just…” There weren’t words to describe how horrific that was. “You know, if you ever need anything, or just want to stay here instead of alone in the safe house, you are always welcome.” It took a few minutes to get himself back under control again, all the stress from the last two months boiling over in that moment and now just leaving him feeling more exhausted than he had in ages. Looking up as Ryan returned with a beer for him, not having even realised he had slipped away, he thanked the man as Ryan sat on the floor to play with his son while he let his wife take care of him. 

          “Thank you. Truly. I just… with everything that Mycroft had said before, and how he was insane and had information about you and Sherlock and how I wasn’t safe… I just thought that was our only choice. And I know My’s not doing any better than I am right now, but when I went to see him, we were both drunk and he kicked me out right after… um, well. I came over then he kicked me out after.” He stuttered once he realised just what he was saying, knowing that they were both fully aware of their relationship but there was still a baby present who was at the age where they repeated back everything. “I don’t know what else to do, or how else to fix this.” 

          “Look, Gregory, there isn’t anything you can do to fix this. It’s a horrible, awful situation, and I’m so sorry that you have to go through it, but we can only wait for Moriarty to slip up. I know this is tough, on both you and Mycroft, in different ways, and honestly, it wasn’t right for him to kick you out, but we all know that once he gets something in his mind about how it’s supposed to be and how it will work, especially when it comes to you, there’s no changing his mind. Doesn’t make it right, I am not defending him on that front, but it’s hard for the both of you, and I hate seeing you two have to go through this. This is the time when I am glad we found a look-a-like, because I can’t imagine Moriarty getting anywhere near Miles, so in that regard, I can see why Mycroft is doing what he is, because I would do anything, including sending my child away, if it meant he wouldn’t be in the line of fire.” Reaching up, she cupped his cheeks, giving him a soft smile. “Again, I am so, so terribly sorry this is happening, and I wish I could do more to help. We are going to catch this man, but until then, the best I can offer is a shoulder to cry on and a spare bed in our guest room.” 

          “I know, I know… God, after tonight? I know.” Greg murmured, closing his hand around Anthea’s smaller on and leaning his head on her shoulder, just wanting the comfort that came with being beside someone who could understand. Falling into silence as they watched Miles and Ryan play, the room filled with the silly, bright noises that came from his toys and the child’s happy chattering, Greg felt himself starting to relax again as they all joined in, smiling when Miles went running off to his room before returning with his blanket and a book, dropping himself in his lap with a demand. 

          “Uncle Geg read night night.” Laughing at how sweet Miles was without even trying, Greg wrapped his arms around the toddler as he softly read a story to him, forcing down a lump that threatened to choke him now and again as the boy slowly fell asleep in his lap as it got later into the night. 

          “I don’t think I have a choice about not staying now,” Greg chuckled once Miles was sound asleep in his lap, brushing his fingers lightly over his hair as he looked back at Ryan and Anthea. “Do you think it’s safe to stay here? God knows what the next game is going to be tomorrow, but tonight’ll be nice with family.”

          “Yes, it’s safe. I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t think it was. We have our own security team as well, and luckily the new assistant has drawn all attention off of us. I think Mycroft couldn’t stomach the idea that this man could be lead back to Miles, and I’m grateful for that, because I would have left my position until I knew the threat was gone had he not found her. I’ll go and set up the guest room if you want to take Miles back to his, just don’t wake him or you’ll be reading stories to him all night.” Anthea chuckled, moving down the hall. Gingerly lifting Miles to his shoulder, Ryan helped him standing and move to put him to bed, Greg taking advantage of the moment to watch over the sleeping boy, already feeling better than when he first arrived. At least he knew that they were all safe, his second family, and the boy he loved so much, and trusted that they would continue to be safe. Pressing one last goodnight kiss to Miles’ forehead, Greg stopped by the bathroom to get washed up as much as he could, using his finger as a toothbrush and splashing some water on his face that was still a little puffy. Then again, he was sure that his break down from earlier was far healthier than making friends with a whiskey bottle. Stepping out, ready to fall asleep on the closest padded surface, Greg offered an exhausted smile to Anthea as he murmured his thanks. 

          “I’m going to keep saying thank you for letting me stay the night. I’ll make breakfast in the morning for everyone, how’s that?”  There was something off about her, the expression on her features wary as she reached out and placed a hand on his arm. 

          “Gregory…. John’s been taken.” 


	37. XXXVI

          Moriarty had everything set up exactly as he wanted, all of his chess pieces just where he needed, and all he was waiting on was Sherlock, to make the first move. Of course he had stacked the deck in his favour, but what honest betting man wouldn’t? His latest little toy was waiting in the wings, and he was so very excited about the fact that he had  _ the  _ John this time, instead of just some lousy commoner to use for whatever he wanted. Moriarty was nearly bouncing by the time that Sherlock finally arrived, announcing that he had the USB stick with the missile plans on it. Dull, he could have had those in ten minutes. It was cute seeing how upset big brother could get over it, though. Commanding his toy to step out, the man stepped away from the door, just enough that he wouldn’t be heard just yet, but he could still see the look of horror on Sherlock’s face when he first saw John and thought that this was all his doing. 

          “Evening. This is a turn-up, isn’t it, Sherlock?” Really? The doctor? The man who flinched at fingers in the ice box, and a few gunshots in the morning? Oh silly, silly boy. 

          “Show him, Johnny.” He commanded through the earpiece, smirking as he continued to feed him lines to say. 

          “Bet you never saw  _ this  _ coming. What… would you like me… to make him say… next?” He spaced out slowly, grinning at how easy it was to make anyone sound so mechanical and boring. Moriarty perked up with a new idea, inching towards the door to make sure he could have a clear view of Sherlock’s face as he continued on. “Gottle o’ geer, gottle o’ geer, gottle o’geer.” Oh now he was just really pressing on a nerve… Moriarty schooled himself back down as he got ready for his grand entrance, checking to make sure that his hair was just right as he walked over to the door. 

          “Nice touch, this: the pool where little Carl died. I stopped him. I can stop John Watson too. Stop his heart.” 

          “Who  _ are  _ you?” Oh come on now… 

          “I gave you my number. I thought you might call.” Moriarty said sorrowfully as he stepped out, tucking his mobile away as he leisurely walked along the side of the pool, taking his time as he looked up to the two men with a smirk. “Is that a British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket, or are you just pleased to see me?” Sherlock didn’t seem to share the same amusement, though, aiming the gun at his head. 

          “Both.” Boring. Dull. Sad. Perhaps it was time to make his own set of introductions, then. 

          “Jim Moriarty. Hi!” He sung out, smiling as John shivered at the sound of his voice, though his true interest still seemed a bit unsure of just who he was. Well that couldn’t do. “Jim? Jim from the hospital? Oh. Did I really make such a fleeting impression? But then, I supposed, that  _ was  _ rather the point.” 

          “James Moriarty died, Richard. I was there. I remember you.” Sherlock said slowly, Jim’s eyes narrowing as he gave a small nod to signal for a laser to be trained onto John’s chest to show that he wasn’t to be played with. He was the player, not the other way around, though it was adorable how Sherlock looked so confused now. 

          “Richard? I haven’t heard that name in a long time. I’m Moriarty now. Oh don’t be silly. Someone else is holding the rifle. I don’t like getting my hands dirty. I’ve given you a glimpse, Sherlock, just a teensy glimpse of what I’ve got going on out there in the big bad world. I’m a specialist, you see… like you!” Moriarty explained, walking along the pool again to get closer to them, starting to wish he had broken into Mycroft’s flat just for show, so he could have his umbrella as well. He did always like to show off with it, now he could see why. 

          “Dear Jim. please will you fix it for me to get rid of my lover’s nasty sister?, Dear Jim. Please will you fix it for me to disappear to South America?” 

          “Just so.” He praised as Sherlock started putting the pieces together, that brilliant brain he wanted so badly, at work again as it should be. 

          “Consulting criminal. Brilliant.” 

          “Isn’t it? No-one ever gets to me - and no-one ever will.” Moriarty preened, smirking when Sherlock cocked the pistol aimed towards his chest, not like it would do anything to him, but the idea was cute. 

          “ _ I  _ did.” 

          “You’ve come the closest. Now you’re in my way.” 

          “Thank you.”

          “Didn’t mean it as a compliment.” Moriarty warned.

          “Yes you did.”

          “Yeah, okay, I did.” He said with a bashful shrug before his grin dropped and he turned to face Sherlock directly, starting to feel a bit more murderous that normal. “But the flirting over, Sherlock. Daddy’s had enough now! I’ve show you what I can do. I cut loose all those people, all those little problems, even thirty million quid just to get you to come out and play. So take this as a friendly warning, my dear. Stop playing hard to get already! Although I have  _ loved  _ this - this little game of ours. Playing Jim from I.T. Playing gay. Did you like the little touch with the underwear?” 

          “People have died.” Sherlock argued, his focus on something so boring and so useless rather infuriating.

          “ That's what people _do_! Oh, but not us. Oh no. Not really. It's a little wheel for us, round and round it goes, where it stops, no-one knows! They say it's until you remember. It's really not. At least, not until I remember. Oh and you remember everything, Johnny. They say death doesn't hurt. They lie. They're lucky though, only going through it once. Oh, but I remember. Again and again I've come back to you, but you don't remember, do you? Sherlock? Hm? Every. Time. I come back to you. And you're always with this little... thing, when you could just stop it all and end it with me. Wouldn't that be so much easier? To stop this?” Moriarty pressed Sherlock, growing more and more agitated as he continued on until he noticed John’s look of confusion between the two of them. “Oh… Sherlock hasn’t told you yet? About his little condition? That he’s immortal? Can’t die? Only he can. I know how. We’re really not that different anymore. Immortal. In love. You just love the wrong person. It was supposed to be me! I even told little Molly Hooper. She laughed. I almost stopped her laughing too. But she’s too useful, to show you what you’re doing to me. She doesn’t even know that she’s just a toy! She’s so adorable, don’t you think Johnny? I’ve seen the look in your eye. Oh Sherlock, he’s not yours anymore. You set him free and he didn’t come home. Now come home to me. ”

          “I  _ will _ stop you.” Sherlock murmured, almost sweet as a promise if it wasn’t so stupid while Moriarty made himself calm again.

          “No you won’t.”

_           “ _ You all right? Sherlock asked suddenly, looking over to John who had stayed quiet this whole time, the worry in the other immortal’s eyes both infuriating and disgusting. Oh vomit. It made him happy though when John stayed quiet, Moriarty grinning at the unplanned show of control he still had over Sherlock’s pet.

          “You can talk, Johnny-boy. Go ahead.” He said sweetly, smirking when John kept silent but nodded once to assure Sherlock that he was alright. Apparently that was enough to get make him happy as he pulled out the memory stick and offered it to him.

_           “ _ Huh? Oh! That! The missile plans!” Moriarty nearly laughed, sarcastically kissing it having forgotten that was even a part of any of this. “Boring! I could have got them anywhere.” He shrugged off as he tossed it into the pool, hit from behind as John suddenly tackled him thinking he could save Sherlock like this if he were to sacrifice himself, Moriarty simply laughing at the irony of how history loved repeating itself. “ _ Good _ !  _ Very _ good.”

          “If your sniper pulls that trigger, Mr Moriarty, then we both go up.” John tried to challenge, Moriarty clearing his throat as he looked back over at Sherlock with a calm grin.

          “Isn’t he sweet? I can see why you like having him around. But then people do get so sentimental about their pets. They’re so touchingly loyal. But,  _ oops!  _ You’ve rather shown your hand there, Doctor Watson.” He pointed out, starting to giggle again as his snipers shifted around to target Sherlock now. And that certainly wasn’t a bluff, he had made sure to have hollowpoint bullets so it would definitely take him out if absolutely necessary. Of course it would hurt, but… oh well. He’s gone this long without him, having John lose his lover the same way he had lost his would do just as well. “Gotcha!” Moriarty rolled his shoulders as John realized that there was no way that he could win this, brushing his suit off to keep it clean. It was one of his favourites, after all. He had worn it just for Sherlock. “Westwood! Do you know what happens if you don’t leave him, Sherlock, do you?” 

          “Oh, let me guess: I get killed.” Sherlock drawled, Moriarty rolling his eyes at the simplicity of such an idea. 

          “Kill you? Nooo, don’t be obvious. I mean, I’m going to kill you anyway some day. I don’t wanna rush it, though. I’m saving it up for something special. No-no-no-no-no. If you don’t stop playing, I’ll burn you. I’ll burn the _heart_ out of you.” He hissed, a tiny smile on his lips at the first genuine look of fear that he had seen in Sherlock’s eyes, as he realised just how serious he was being. 

          “I have been reliably informed that I don’t have one.” Such a boring bluff, especially with John right there, and Mycroft, and Anthea, and all his little minions and ants that would be so easily to crush under his boot.

          “But we both know that’s not  _ quite _ true.” Moriarty easily called Sherlock on his statement, smirking as he flinched before shrugging, bored now with this. He had made his case, now all he needed to do was wait for Sherlock to come back to him. And he would. Of course he would, he would get bored and the tease of another game, another hit, would call to him. “Well, I’d better be off. So nice to have had a proper chat.”

          “What if I was to shoot you now – right now?” Dull. 

          “Then you could cherish the look of surprise on my face.” He said with obvious boredom, exaggerating his shock as he stared straight down the barrel of the gun before dropping it and looking back at Sherlock. “’Cause I’d be surprised, Sherlock; really I would. And just a teensy bit disappointed. And of course you wouldn’t be able to cherish it for very long. Ciao, Sherlock Holmes.”

_           “ _ Catch you later.” Sherlock said slowly, Moriarty laughing as he made his leave and dramatically pushed the door in front of him open as he made his way out.

_           “ _ No you won’t!” He called, waiting until the doors closed before making his way back to his original hiding location, waiting to see if Sherlock would come back to him or not. If not, well… He had made his position perfectly clear.

*****

          Sherlock froze for a few moments, waiting with the gun still trained on the door where Moriarty… Richard had just left. When he was certain the other wasn’t going to return, it was as if the hold had been lifted and he put the pistol on the floor before dropping to his knees in front of John, unfastening the vest as he wanted it off of him as fast as possible, not trusting the other to not blow them up even after he was gone. 

          “All right?” Still focused on his task, all he heard was John breathing heavily, and he worried that maybe the bomb was only one thing the man had inflicted on his partner. “Are you alright?” 

          “Yeah-yeah, I’m fine.” Finishing off the vest, he jumped up and hurried around John, tugging off the jacket from the other and the vest. “I’m fine. Sherlock.” His breathing was starting to quicken, his hands fumbling as he struggled to get the vest off. “Sh-Sherlock!” Not paying attention as John’s voice got louder, he slid the vest as far as he could, watching as it went, calculating what sort of distance they would have to be to be considered safe, or at least, what distance John had to be. “Jesus.” Turning back and looking at John, he could see the shock and fear gripping him, his anger rising up in his chest. Grabbing his pistol, Sherlock raced off towards the door through with Richard left, scowling when he saw no sign of him and returning to his partner. John was now on the floor, bracing himself against one of the cubicles, trying to calm himself down. Pacing along the edge of the pool, trying to think of how Richard had come back, how he was now calling himself Moriarty, or how any of this could even make sense. He was so caught up he didn’t even realise he was scratching his head with the business end of the loaded pistol. “Are you okay?” 

          “Me? Yeah, I’m fine, I’m fine. Fine.” He muttered, before going wide-eyed and looking to John. “That… thing that you, that you did - that, um… you offered to do. That was, um… good.” 

          “I’m glad no one saw that.” Furrowing his brow, Sherlock looked down to John, not sure what he meant by that. “You, ripping my clothes off in a darkened swimming pool. People might talk.” Shrugging, he didn’t really see a problem with that, but then again, he had centuries of doing even worse stunts and being caught with John, but the other man didn’t. 

          “People do little else.” There was a small pause as he caught John’s eye, the man snorting a laugh and leaning forward to stand again. Sherlock’s blood went cold though,eyes wide as he saw a red dot now reappear on John’s chest, the man looking equally shocked and horrified. Sherlock spun around at the sound of the door on the far side of the pool opened and closed, scowling as he saw Richard walking back in clapping his hands in amusement. 

          “Sorry, boys! I’m sooooo changeable!” Looking up at the gallery, he tried to make out where the snipers were located, wondering what the odds were, if he could possibly get John out of there alive, using himself as a shield. “It is a weakness with me but, to be fair to myself, it is my only weakness. You can’t be allowed to continue like this. With him. You just can’t. I would try and convince you but…  everything I have to say has already crossed your mind!” Looking back to John, Sherlock looked for some answer, reading that man like he had done for centuries, and made up his mind within seconds, facing Richard with a determined look. 

          “Probably my answer has crossed yours.” Raising the pistol again, he aimed at Richard, the man smirking knowing Sherlock wasn’t willing to have that kind of blood on his hands. What wasn’t expected was how he lowered his hand until the gun was pointing directly at the bomb jacket, knowing it would be the only possibility of doing enough damage to take the man out. There was a few, tense moments that he shared with Richard, keeping his eyes locked for any movement, until he heard the song ‘Stayin’ Alive’, frowning and blinking in shock at the sudden breach of silence surrounding them save the roar of the blood in his ears. Richard seemed unfazed though, closing his eyes and sighing in exasperation. 

          “D’you mind if I get that?” 

          “No, no, please. You’ve got the rest of your life,” 

          “Hello? Yes, of course it is. What do you want?” The drama queen he was, Richard turned to Sherlock and John to mouth ‘sorry,’ to which of course Sherlock added ‘Oh, it’s fine’, sarcastically. There was a night and day change when Richard spun back around, his face full of fury. “SAY THAT AGAIN!” Frowning, Sherlock wondered if maybe something hasn’t gone right for him, trying to sort out what that could have been and if it was going to save John’s life or not. “Say that again, and know that if you’re lying to me, I will find you, and I will skin you. Wait.” Lowering the phone, Richard started back towards them, Sherlock gripping the pistol tighter, reminding him that his aim was trained on the jacket, forcing Richard to stop a few steps away from them. “Sorry. Wrong day to die.” 

          “Oh. Did you get a better offer?” 

          “You’ll be hearing from me, Sherlock…” He shrugged, turning on his heels and putting his phone back to his ear now that he had nearly finished his little show with Sherlock. “So if you have what you say you have, I will make you rich. If you don’t, I’ll make you into shoes.” Richard warned, raising his hand and snaps his fingers once as he reached the doors leading out from the pool area, the lasers disappearing in an instant as Sherlock and John were once again alone. 

          “What happened there?” 

          “Someone changed his mind. The question is: Who?” 

*****

          Sherlock sighed as he sat next to John on the kerb, waiting for the other to start asking questions about Richard’s immortality comments, knowing that it was inevitable. The man had already demanded his gun back after he had started fidgeting with it again, a moment of silence passing between them before John finally elected to speak. 

          “James Moriarty is actually named Richard. You saw the real James Moriarty die. Richard is obsessed with you, and thinks that you’re both immortal… or that you get reincarnated until you’re immortal? And that you remember everything? God, I know that he was insane, but… that’s actual, medical insanity right there.” 

          “Yes. I’ve known Richard for a long time, I just didn’t realise Moriarty  _ was  _ Richard. Back when we first met, he was with someone named Jim Moriarty. Moriarty… died in a very horrific manner, burned alive,” At the stake for witchcraft when the people found out that he didn’t age and didn’t die like mortals. “It was very traumatic, even for us. Richard took it hard and never moved on. He disappeared, and we figured he had ended up in an asylum, but I guess we now know where he is, and that things have gotten far worse than before…” 

          “You’re serious…” John muttered before laughing sarcastically, pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes. “Oh my God, please just wake me up and tell me this is all some crazy dream. None of that makes sense, Sherlock. I mean, yes, witnessing and experiencing trauma like that can twist someone’s brain and play tricks on them, causing them to pick up different habits from who they’re focused on, but you can’t just play along with this like that explains everything! I just had a damned bomb strapped to my chest and  _ I’m  _ the one making sense right now?” 

          “John, I can’t explain why he has an obsession with me, why his feelings for Jim transferred to me that night, but that is what happened, and some people are criminals. Most are terrible, and horribly stupid, but Richard isn’t,” Sherlock rolled his eyes, turning as he heard the sound of vehicles pulling up, giving an exaggerated sigh as he knew what that meant; Big brother had arrived. 

          “Sherlock, John. Brother, a word?” 

          “Were you really so damned obsessed with your stupid weapons plans that you didn’t think to maybe try and protect Sherlock from a complete and utter madman who’s obsessed with him, who blew up a woman for funsies, and strapped a set of explosives to me? Here’s a tip,  _ don’t keep them on flash drives!”  _ John yelled, Sherlock looking to the shorter man was a small smile, watching the rage unfold, John jabbing a finger into his brother’s chest. “He blew up the flat across from ours, nearly blew up a woman in her car, some poor sod in the middle of Trafalgar,  _ did  _ kill a blind woman, and kidnapped a  _ child  _ all as a part of his little ‘game’ with Sherlock! Your brother! Not to mention, the fact that he just had me in one of those damned vests too!  _ And!  _ He’s insane, talking about immortality and past lives and other nonsense…. This is your job, do it!” 

          “You would do well to know your place, Doctor Watson. You will never know the extent to which I go to protect Sherlock, but there isn’t a team alive that can predict the moves of this spider. I know what has been going on, and if you don’t mind, I would like a word with my brother.  _ Alone.”  _ Mycroft growled, the two of them staring each other down before Mycroft grabbed a hold of Sherlock’s arm and dragged him out of earshot. “What happened in there and why did you let him get away!? What is this I hear about Moriarty talking about immortality and past lives? You told him?”   


          “There were snipers trained on John!” Sherlock hissed as he jerked his arm out of Mycroft’s hold, rubbing where his hands had been before pacing around slightly to sort out his thoughts. “This isn’t Moriarty we’re dealing with. It’s Richard Brooks. After James’ death, he’s fallen worse than anyone thought. I wasn’t going to tell him anything, but Richard brought it up when trying to convince me to leave John and go with him. I need to find Molly Hooper, he’s told her and we need to make sure she keeps quiet about this as well.” He explained quickly, looking past his brother to watch where John was still visibly angry, but trying to calm down. “Where was your security team when he took John? Why did you let him get that close?” 

          “Richard Brooks? Sherlock are you certain? I can have Gregory speak with Ms. Hooper, as he is a bit more gentle and can handle these situations better than the both of us.” Mycroft’s voice was quieter as he looked about. “I didn’t  _ let  _ him get to John, Sherlock. The team scans everyone that has significant contact, and if he is walking alone down the street, they keep a close eye on him, but it only takes a few seconds for someone to swoop in. We all knew the risks, knew that it would be impossible unless they were on our backs to keep us completely safe.” Sherlock snapped, clenching his hands at his side hard enough to prick his palms before he started pacing again, scrubbing his fingers through his hair to vent some of his frustrations. 

          “Yes, I am certain it was Richard, Mycroft. He was right in front of me. He shot John, I remember his face.” He reminded his brother none to subtly, sighing heavily as he looked back to where John had settled himself back on the kerb and watching his mobile, waiting for whoever was on the other side to respond. “I don’t know what else you want from me, Mycroft, but I’ll do whatever I have to in order to protect John this time around. I am not losing him again.” 

          “I fear, brother dearest, that we may have to go to extreme circumstances to protect those that we love. I don’t have a plan, just yet, but as soon as one is devised, or you have more information, we will figure it out together. I won’t let him kill our loved ones. I promise.” Sherlock looked back at his brother as the man talked about going to the extremes to protect their loves, his brows knitting together slightly as he noticed the pain in his eyes, though not the same guilt he wore when he brought up their deaths before. This was something new, something that was undoubtedly very stupid, but he couldn’t see any other way to keep Lestrade safe. 

          “You do, just not for John. Whatever you’re about to do, do it quickly and as painlessly as possible. I still have to work with Lestrade, even if you don’t.” Sherlock said softly, shaking his head before taking his leave and returning to John’s side, offering his hand to help the man up. “Let’s go home, John.” 

*****

          It was too late for Sherlock to do with John, what he was going to do with Gregory, as Richard already knew what the man looked like in this life. If he wanted to be sure that Richard didn’t come for Gregory, he would have to take Sherlock’s advice and act fast. Sighing, he stepped away, making sure his team could take care of the rest and slipped into the back of his car, dialing Anthea. 

          “Yes, hello my dear. We found John and Sherlock. I’m afraid I have some rather bad news though, Moriarty is not his real name, rather it is Richard Brooks. Our fears of him returning have been realised. Unfortunately we were not able to catch him before he left. Is Gregory at your place?” His team had notified him that the man had stayed there last night, as he always got updates when his partner didn’t stay at the safe house. “Please have him stay until I arrive. There are some things I need to address with him.” It didn’t take them long to arrive at Anthea’s, Mycroft telling the driver to wait as he didn’t think this would take long. Taking a deep breath, he walked to the door, knocking once before letting himself in. “Hello?” Closing it behind him, he gave a sad smile to Anthea as she walked down the hall to him. Wrapping his arms around her shoulders, he closed his eyes and buried his face in her neck. “Anthea, I don’t want to do this, but what other choice do I have?” His voice almost cracked, and he could feel the tears pricking at his eyes, her arms winding tighter around him. 

          “Oh Mycroft, my dear. I wish I could offer you more help,” She murmured, kissing his forehead before pulling back and cupping his face with her hands. “Whatever you need, I’ll be here for you both.” She brushed her thumbs under his eyes and smiled sadly back up at him. “I’ll keep an eye on Gregory, you know I will. It will all be alright, I promise you.” Reaching up and covering her hand with his own, he gave another shaky smile before looking down. 

          “I have to let him go.” It was barely a whisper as he said it, his voice cracking again and a tear streaming down his cheek. “I don’t want to, but I can’t risk his life, not after what happened with John. Please, please keep an eye on him, keep him close. Be his family when I can’t. He may not come back to me this life, but at least Richard won’t get to him.” Mycroft started, his voice rushed as she hushed him, her fingers brushing away the stray tears that now streaked down his face. 

          “Mycroft, Gregory will come back to you, of course he will. He loves you, you know that. Talk to him, please.” She murmured, closing her eyes as she heard the man in question come down the hall. 

          “I just hope you are right my dear.” Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, knowing this was all that was left, these last few moments together before their world fell apart. Anthea gave him a kiss on the cheek before walking away, his hand reaching out as hers left his. 

          “My? Hey, sweetie. What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Gregory murmured, offering his arms out to invite him in. “What’s going on? John and Sherlock are alright, yeah?” 

          “Yes, John and Sherlock are okay… for now…” 

          “That’s good, right? Everything’s going to be alright?” Gregory ran his hand in lazy circles along his back, rocking him in an attempt to comfort. “It’s going to be okay. We’re going to keep fighting this, just like we have been. We can do this, right? It’s okay.” 

          “I wish everything was going to be alright, but it is far worse than we feared…” There was a struggle within him, a fight against the desire to lean into those touches, to melt to the other, and give in, agree that everything would be okay, that they could fight this. “Moriarty is Richard, a man who has been chasing after Sherlock for centuries. Even with the security team, he got to John, strapped explosives to his chest, and were it not for some mysterious call, both Sherlock and John would have died tonight.” 

          “Oh Mycroft,” Gregory breathed, pulling him into another tight hug. “So, what do we do? We know who we’re facing now, we know what we’re facing now, we can make a plan and fight. We’ll get him, just like how Sherlock solved all those cases, we can do this.” 

          “No.” It wasn’t loud, but he knew Gregory had heard him, and he knew this is where their tender moment would end, and where his world would come down around him, and where he hoped, because they were at Anthea’s, that Gregory wouldn’t shout and fight him on this. Mycroft already knew Anthea had taken Miles and Ryan off, and she had told Ryan everything, including what he was planning to do, so the couple would stay out of this until it was over, at which point, he hoped Anthea would keep her promise and watch over him. Gregory faltered, stepping back slightly, his arms still around his shoulders as he looked to him. 

          “Mycroft, yes we can. We can do this together. We’re a team, don’t… don’t shut down on me again. This case has been insane, don’t do this, please. Can we please just be a couple again and fight this like couples are supposed to?” Gregory asked, his voice soft, even though Mycroft could read the fear in his eyes. “My, don’t do this. You know I will never stop fighting for you. Don’t do this to us. To me.” Closing his eyes, his hands shaking and his heart roaring in his ears, Mycroft tried his best not to completely break down, knowing that wasn’t an option right now. 

          “No. You will not be involved with this anymore. With… me, anymore. I will not see you strapped full of explosives, or used by that man. If this is what it takes, I am sorry, Gregory. I cannot in good conscious stay with you, if it means that Richard can find you.” It took everything in him to say those words, opening his eyes and seeing the hurt and devastation on his lovers face, tears streaming down his face leaving trails of heat in their wake. He wanted to reach out, to comfort the other, but he had to hold back, keep to himself, not undo what he had just done, even if he desperately wanted to. 

          “I will always be involved with this because of my position and my attachment to the two of you, romantic or not! I’ve already made myself known by pursuing all these cases, if he was going to go after me, he would have! Don’t... Mycroft, I love you. I know you feel the same about me, even if you haven’t said it in bloody weeks. I’m saying it now. I love you. Don’t do this,”  _ I do love you, my moon and stars, that is why I have to let you go, to protect you.  _

          “You are not tied to me. You are tied to Caroline. I can have your things sent to the safe house, and you are welcome to stay there for as long as you need. I hope that you will understand someday, why this was the right choice.” He didn’t want to stay and draw this out, knowing he was on the verge of a breakdown. “Good evening Gregory.” Turning around, he started to open the door, hesitating for a few seconds as he heard the man speak.

          “Mycroft, mi sol, ne derelinquas me.”  _ Mycroft, my sun, don’t leave me.  _ He wasn’t sure how the man knew that Latin, but it was too much to hear and he closed to the door behind him. He would have the locks changed on the town home, and the security team would have to be informed of the changes, but change was something they were accustomed too. Walking towards the car, his vision grew blurry as the tears flowed freely now, and halfway towards the car, his legs gave out and he fell to his knees, the security team rushing to his side as he broke down in front of the house. Mycroft barely noted the men lifting him to his feet and bringing him to the car, helping him slide in as they shut the door. The silence was almost too much to take, his ears starting to ring as the weight in his chest grew and grew. Shouting, Mycroft was never more grateful for the soundproofing in his car than he was just then, screaming his pain, frustration, anger and denial. He had never given Gregory up willingly, but this life seemed to be a round of firsts for them, and he never thought anything would be more painful than losing Gregory to death, but he was learning that he was wrong. 

*****

          It took two weeks for Greg to finish with the Moriarty cases, enough to even give his personal life a second glance, and another two to start looking for a flat within his means. Yes, he had been able to save up quite a bit while living with Mycroft, but Greg wasn’t about to get his hopes up that the politician would ever allow him back. The more he had thought about their last meeting, the angrier he got, realising that Mycroft really hadn’t said that he loved him outside of their drunken one night stand, which only served to upset him more until he was just ready to give up and move on with his life. Settling on a nice, but small flat outside of London, Greg finally felt in control of his life again as he sat at the bar of one of his old pubs, having placed a couple friendly bets on the footie games on the telly with the locals. 

          “Greg?” His attention was pulled from the screens in front of him at the feeling of a small hand tugging at his shoulder, a wave of conflicting emotions crashing together in his chest as he saw Caroline for the first time in years. He had to admit that she looked well, a shorter haircut making her look more athletic than she ever would be in real life, and a little fairer than before. “What are you doing here?”

          “Caroline,” He greeted after remembering himself, turning more to face her with a slight shrug. “I um…” Greg started, unsure at first if he should actually answer her question or not before deciding that it really didn’t matter at this point. “I live about ten minutes walk from here now. Mycroft and I… we aren’t together anymore. Didn’t work out in the end, I guess.” He admitted with another shrug, his chest still growing uncomfortably tight with his new reality, but there wasn’t much else he could do about it. “So I moved back out here. Are you here with friends?” 

          “Oh hunny.” Her expression turned down and she moved closer, throwing her arms around his neck. There was a comforting familiarity to Caroline’s hug, one that Greg returned with a hand gently to her back, though he wasn’t about to pull her close like she was doing to him. It would still take time for him to forgive her for cheating as much and as often as she did, if Greg could ever bring himself to do so. “I’m sorry to hear that Greg. You seem to be doing alright though, got your own flat, and you’re out and about. I’m just here with Sal and the girls. They told me I was spending too much time at home and wanted me to get out.” 

          “I’ve been fairly lucky, I guess. I’ve had work that has to get done, and a close, mutual friend of myself and Mycroft has been able to stay neutral through it all, and has kept me grounded. Not to mention, I have her son, my godson,” Greg added with a chuckle, automatically reaching for his phone to show Caroline pictures of Miles. He really was infatuated with the boy, but damned if he couldn’t make any day a little better. 

          “He looks sweet, Greg. I’m sure you are so good with him, you always have been with kids.” About to ask where her friends were, Greg snorted a laugh as the bartender set down a martini in front of Caroline, not even caring about the look he received from her. 

          “You are seriously the only person I know who orders those from a pub. It’s a pub. You get a pint and call it good. He teased, shaking his head as he took a sip from his drink.

          “Gregory Lestrade, you hush. I can order whatever I wish at a pub, that’s why they have it as an option on the menu.” She chuckled, taking a sip of her drink with a smile.

          “What have you been up to? It’s been awhile since we last saw one another.”

          “Oh, you know. Just working and staying busy. It has been a while, and it’s good to see you, though I wish it were better circumstances for you.” She reached out and placed a hand on his knee, Greg trying not to pull back from her. “Greg, look. I know what I did was horrible, and no amount of apologising will ever make right what I did to you. You are such a sweet guy, and I’m so sorry that I treated you so horribly. I want to make it up to you though, any way that I can. Let me take you out for dinner?” Greg’s smile faded as Caroline brought up their past, twisting his glass in his hand as he considered what she was really offering him. It was just a dinner, really, and so far everything had been so easy between them. There was comfort in their familiarity with one another, and they knew everything about each other. There weren’t any true life altering secrets between them, even the cheating Greg knew about now, but maybe, just maybe, the fact that he had made good on his threat before to leave, would be enough for things to work this time. They had been apart for five years, and they still gravitated towards one another… that had to mean something, right? And it was Mycroft who had told him again and again that he was still connected to Caroline. Perhaps this was what he was supposed to have this lifetime. 

          “I could do dinner. But it’s just dinner.” Greg agreed, raising his glass and tapping it lightly against hers. “You still have my number?” 

          “Yes, just dinner. I promise.” She pulled out her mobile and made sure it was still the same number, taking a few more sips of her drink. “Well, I should really get back with the girls. I’m sure they are a little miffed I’m blowing them off. I’ll send you a text then. Ta, Greg.” He sighed as he watched Caroline walk back to her friends, not sure just what he thought about everything that he had just agreed to. It was just dinner, right? Only they both knew just as well that it was more. It was the two of them agreeing to give each other another chance. To be a couple again, and not only a couple, but husband and wife again. Finishing off his pint and waving over the bartender to close out his tab, Greg decided to be nice and pay her’s as well, looking back at where Caroline was sitting with her friends, and giving a slight nod goodbye to them as they all watched him before laughing to himself as he was followed out by a collection of squeals and hushes. It still hurt that he didn’t have Mycroft anymore, but at least he wasn’t as alone as he feared. 


	38. XXXII

> **_Hey mate, I think I could use another pub night, you up for a round? - JW_ **
> 
> **Sure, and I'm off tomorrow. It's been quiet from your front lately, not that I'm complaining. You pick the pub, I'll meet you there. - GL**
> 
> **_Maybe for you, but things are never 'quiet' with Sherlock... How about the pub we went to last time? They had decent chips, and the pints weren't half bad either. - JW_ **
> 
> **Ha, fair. Without you watching him, I don't know what he'd be up to now. It'll take me a bit to get to you from where I'm at, but the same pub sounds good to me. I'll see you in a half hour? - GL**
> 
> **_Take you a bit? You and Mycroft move? Yeah, see you in a half hour. - JW_ **
> 
> **It's a bit of a story. I'll tell you when I get there. - GL**
> 
>  

          John got their faster than the other, starting ahead and ordering chips and a drink, needing to get out of the flat, and not caring if that meant he was arriving a half an hour before Greg. When he did arrive, he waved the other over with a smile, gesturing to the seat next to him. 

          “So, what new craziness has Sherlock brought on you now? He hasn’t gotten you two caught up in another gang, has he?” Chuckling when Greg mentioned the Chinese gang, John shook his head and took a couple chips from the basket, nibbling on them as the other sat next to him. 

          “No, nothing like that. He’s just being… Sherlock. I’m sure you understand. Nothing insanely crazy, but enough where I needed a night off,” Taking a couple sips from his pint, John smiled as he looked over to the other, but he could tell there was a different weight on the man’s shoulder than the last time he had seen him. “I don’t mean to pry, but you seem a bit off, mate, and I’m all ears if you need it.” Reaching out, he placed a hand on Greg’s shoulder, giving him a sympathetic smile. Greg’s expression fell, sighing as he looked down at his hands and paused for a moment. 

          “My and I broke up. Well, I say we, but My broke up with me right after the Moriarty thing went down. He said it wasn’t safe for us to be together, but… he didn’t even want to try and fight for us. I moved back out towards where I used to live, ended up crossing paths with my sort of ex wife, and now we’re kind of cautiously dating. Been seeing each other two or three times a week now for the last few months.” Part of him wondered why he hadn’t heard about this, but then again, Sherlock wouldn’t say anything about thing he didn’t find important, especially when his brother was involved. 

          “Jesus Greg, I’m sorry mate. Drinks on me tonight. If it’s any consolation, I know how hard it is to be with someone when it’s not safe, when it’s dangerous, and just the concept of being together is a hazard. I still talk with James, but since I’ve come home, he wrote to me and told me to move on, and if it was meant to be, we could be together when he came home,” John took another sip of his pint, his chest feeling tight as he told Greg about James, it being the first time he had really spoken about his relationship with the other, with anyone. “Danger and love, it makes you do crazy things. I’m not saying what Mycroft did was right, but I get it… from both sides.” 

          “James?” 

          “James was my commanding officer.” His voice was soft as he looked at his hands where they wrapped around the glass, his heart aching for the first time in a while since thinking about the man. When he had first received the letter from James, telling him to move on, he had been angry, and responded in kind, but of course, James had been level headed and soft with his response. It was true, they had no idea how long James would be in service, and it was the stupid, self sacrificing shit the man was known for, telling him to move on so he wouldn’t be lonely and waiting around. At first, he ignored that, but the longer he went on knowing it was what James wanted, he felt he was betraying the man if he didn’t at least try. John wouldn’t lie, part of him was relieved when Sherlock ruined his relationships each time, or when they didn’t work out, knowing that meant the two of them were still meant for each other, but he knew in the back of his mind what James would say. 

          “Ah. Yeah, well Mycroft just kept saying that he wasn’t going to let Moriarty get to me, and that being with him was a danger, but he wouldn’t listen to the fact that I was already on all of those cases right there with you, so if he was going to get to me, then…” 

          “I’m not choosing sides here, but I see it from both perspectives. Yes, you were on the cases, you know Sherlock, that’s dangerous enough, trust me mate, I know that,” John let out a soft chuckle, taking another sip of his pint. “But Mycroft, I’m not sure exactly what he does, but Sherlock implies that he  _ is  _ the British Government, has a whole other set of dangers. It was dangerous to date James, not because it would get us kicked out, but also, if anyone found out, they could use me to get to him as he had more power. If any of the terrorists wanted to kidnap me and torture me for information, they could have,” John gave a small shrug and an apologetic smile. 

          “Still sucks,” The D.I defended himself stubbornly, John raising his class and chuckling as they clinked them together. 

          “That it does mate, still sucks.” 

          “As for Mycroft… he sort of does everything, really. Whenever someone says that it’s a decision or orders from ‘higher ups’, I’m pretty sure that’s him. I’m not even sure if he actually works for the government, or just for the Queen. It’s complicated, that’s all I know.” Finishing off his pint, John ordered another, thanking the bartender when it was sat down in front of him. 

          “Sounds about right. I try to take everything Sherlock says about him with a grain of salt, as I have to with everything he says. I’m sure you know how that can be,” Picking at the last of his chips, he sat back with a sigh, closing his eyes. “God, when did I become such a romantic piece of crap? Here we are, supposed to be out having a pint with mates, and we are talking about lost loves. Not to mention, they’re both me. If my sister ever found out, I’d never hear the end of it. Also, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell Sherlock about James. No one knows, actually, you’re the first I’ve told. Everyone keeps assuming I’m with Sherlock, and don’t get me wrong, he’s handsome, but he’s also an arse. I don’t like that everyone just assumes I’m gay,” John frowned, looking down as he wondered why it really bothered him so much. 

          “I think it’s just what happens when you spend your time with someone. Everyone assumes you’re with the other person. I can’t tell you how many people have assumed I’m with Donovan just because we work together and we have respect for one another as well. She’s a hell of a jerk towards Sherlock, though, so even if there ever had been anything, that would have killed it right then and there. It’s because that’s not who you really are, is all. Now, changing the subject. Tell me about the latest craziness you and Sherlock have been on. Your blog certainly seems to have picked up.” 

          “What things don’t deserve a bar night that Sherlock does?” John chuckled, taking a swig of his drink and setting it back down with a sigh. “Yeah, he hates the blog though, thinks it’s pointless, but I feel like it helps me sort through it all.” Shrugging, he paused for a moment, looking back at the other. “Though, you might get a laugh out of this one. We were recently brought, or should I say forced, to Buckingham Palace, and Sherlock showed up in nothing more than just a sheet. You should have seen the look on Mycroft’s face,” John started to laugh, then remembered about Greg and Mycroft and stopped. “Sorry mate… didn’t think that through…” 

          “I know the man still exists and is still Sherlock’s brother. It hurts that he broke up with me, but I also know it’s only a matter of time before our paths cross again.” John gave a tight smile when he heard how casual Greg was about the whole thing, still feeling a bit like a tit for bringing it up. “God, that sounds like something Sherlock would do, too. I’ll have to ask Lizzy if she has a video of that next time I see her.” His expression changed when he heard the other talk about the Queen as if she was a casual acquaintance, his eyes going wide and jaw dropping. 

          “Lizzy?!” He gaped, looking to the other as if he grew a third head. “You never mentioned you know the Queen, not personally, or professionally I guess, not at all!” Sitting up straight, John turned to face the other a bit better, still trying to wrap his head around this information. It would seem like less of a shock if he found out that Mycroft knew her, as he was just waltzing around the palace like it was home, but he never stopped to think it meant that Greg would know her too.

          “I um… well one of the crazy things with Mycroft’s position is that he’s personal friends with the Queen. She’s surprisingly down to earth, always lets me play with the dogs when I’ve had lunch with her. She probably was off to the side laughing to be honest. Mycroft and her are pretty close, and when she found out he was dating, she wanted to meet me. Friend or not, she’s still the Queen, and you don’t exactly say no to her. It wasn’t like I didn’t make a fool of myself the first time meeting her, though. I was terrified I was going to make some horrible mistake. I’m just lucky that she likes me.” 

          “Bloody hell,” Taking a swig of his drink, John took a moment more to process, trying to imagine what it would be like to have lunch with the Queen. “Better you than me mate. I’m sure I would have really made a tit of myself,” He chuckled, finally looking back to the other, his eyes still wide. “I thought showing up to the palace with a naked man in a sheet was embarrassing and I didn’t even meet the Queen,  _ and  _ I wasn’t even the one who was naked! How Sherlock feels no shame whatsoever, I will never understand.” Shaking his head, John finished off his second pint, setting it down with a sigh. 

          “You said Mycroft was there?” Greg asked, shaking his head in vague amusement. “They’re probably having another spat. Sherlock feels shame, I promise you that, but if he can do something to humiliate his brother, then he’ll dive headfirst into it no matter what.” 

          “Yeah, he was there. Actually ended up stepping on the sheet Sherlock had and almost made him lose it completely. Though it seemed that the whole situation bothered Mycroft more than it did Sherlock, so you’re probably right.” John gave a soft smile as he thought about the whole thing, laughing again as it replayed once more in his memory. 

          “How are you and Sherlock? I know, not in a relationship, but you’re still friends and flatmates, and it’s Sherlock. He had to live with me and Mycroft once for a few months, and it was hell contending with both Holmes at the same time.” 

          “We’re good, I guess. It’s never easy sharing a flat with him, or getting taken along on his little adventure, but at least I’m never bored. I can’t imagine having both of them in a house at once though, at least, not for an extended period. Whenever Mycroft comes over, it’s always like you could cut the air with a knife. They have some serious issues between them, don’t they?” Greg huffed and raised his glass in agreement. 

          “That they do… but having you back, er, having you have his back, that definitely helps with Sherlock for the most part. If nothing else, he’ll actually listen to you… and all the shit that went down with Moriarty didn’t help matters at all, for anyone.” 

          “Yeah… that man is absolutely off his rocker. You know he thinks Sherlock is immortal and that he is too? He also said something about coming back each lifetime or something?” John frowned, furrowing his brow as he looked down to his hands, still confused about the whole thing. “Sherlock seems to play it off to the man just being mental, but he really believes it, you could see that.” Pausing for a moment, he pursed his lips and let out a huff. “But that’s impossible right?” John fave a nervous chuckle, looking back up to Greg, knowing that if anyone could tell him anything about the Holmes brothers, that Greg could. 

          “You would think, though you can’t tell me you haven’t thought Mycroft and Sherlock don’t seem at least a bit out of time, and the number of languages Mycroft can speak seems like it certainly would have taken an eternity to learn…” John’s frown deepened, as that wasn’t a clear cut answer like he was hoping for, one that no one seemed to be giving him. 

          “Yeah, I just figured it was because they were geniuses and just acted weird because they stayed inside most of their childhood, playing with science kits and reading instead of interacting with other kids like normal people.” He gave a small, forced laugh, looking to the man with a shrug. 

          “I mean, I’m sure you’re right about the majority of their childhood spent like that…” 

          “Sorry. It’s just… no one wants to talk about it, and it was kind of a big deal, having explosives strapped to my chest and being used by this crazy man… thinking I was going to die, and him raving about immortals and that Sherlock needed to come back to him…” John let out another sigh, rubbing his hands across his face. He hadn’t really been able to talk to anyone about this since no one seemed to give him the time of day with it, mainly Sherlock and Mycroft. “Both Holmes try and pretend it never happened, and that it’s just the ravings of a looney, but I can’t help but feel that he’s more than just a common nutter… ya know?” 

          “Come back to him?” Greg murmured with a matching frown, signaling to the bartender for another drink. 

          “Yeah, said that Sherlock was supposed to be coming back to him each life? Or something along those lines, but instead he’s always with me? Which is even crazier, as I’m positive, I’ve only been alive this life time, and nothing more.” John chuckled, thanking the server as they brought around another glass for each of them, taking a deep swig. 

          “I don’t know mate. If by ‘more than a common nutter’ you mean ‘batshit crazy psychopath,’ then absolutely. I’m not really sure what to say about everything else.” 

          “Sherlock doesn’t talk about anything, especially when he feels it’s something obvious he shouldn’t have to explain, so all I got out of him was that the man was absolutely mad, and that it was the ravings of a looney, and that’s all.” Pinching the bridge of his nose, he looked over to Greg with a pained smile, just hoping that he didn’t sound absolutely crazy himself. “I’m sorry, didn’t mean to bring us down again, just… a lot to take in, you know?” 

          “Hey, don’t worry about it. I know I’d still be a drunken mess if that was me in your position, so I don’t blame you for needing to talk to sort it all out. In fairness, it might be something Sherlock doesn’t want to talk about. I wouldn’t want to talk about having some murderous looney following me around wanting to be with me.” 

          “Thanks mate. You’re the only one who’s made me feel like I’m not completely losing it and that there was something to talk about,” John gave a tired chuckle, taking another sip from his pint. “I really needed this. Glad you gave me your number. Can’t say there are many who know what it’s like to live with a Holmes,” Even if the brother’s weren’t completely alike, it was something that definitely was not relatable in the least, and took someone special to be able to talk about it with. Most just insulted Sherlock, or stayed away from him completely, and all thought he was off his rocker for living with the man, but at least Greg made him feel like he wasn’t alone in the whole mess. 

          “Or we’ve lost it together.” Greg chuckled, raising his glass in a half toast. “I’m not sure many people could survive living with a Holmes, to be honest. Even I don’t think I could live with Sherlock without wanting to strangle him, so you have the patience of a saint. God knows I’ve gotten close enough to do so a few times on cases, and during press conferences. Bastard knows I’m terrible at them, but he loves teasing me for it. I don’t think I would have lasted as long with Mycroft either if it wasn’t for Anthea. That woman is a lifesaver when dealing with him.” 

          “Sounds like I need to meet this woman… which I thought I already had, but you said it wasn’t the real her? She must be hard to get in with,” John chuckled, downing the last of his drink and calling it quits for the night, closing out their tab and paying for the other as well. “If anyone could give me some insight for dealing with Sherlock, I would be forever in their debt.” Some days he felt like he could handle the man, knew how to read him and how to get him to act like a normal human for a while, but other days he felt like he was drowning trying to decipher the enigma that was Sherlock Holmes. 

          “Anthea? She’s Mycroft’s personal assistant-slash-mother-slash-partner in crime, so…. A bit, but she’s fantastic, and will be the first to call Mycroft on his shit when he starts being a right bastard. The most I’ve got for you when dealing with Sherlock is if you want to keep anything to yourself, don’t let him see it.” Actually laughing, John gave a real smile for the first time that night as he looked to the other. 

          “Good to know, but like I said, I might need to get someone like Anthea to help me out. Why isn’t she a part of these pub nights?” He joked, taking a stand as they left their spots at the bar and made their way outside for the night, the cool air brushing against his skin feeling absolutely wonderful. 

          “I’ll be sure to let her know next time that she’s invited, but she’s got her little one, so I certainly don’t want her to feel like she needs to give up time with her son just to listen to us complain.” 

          “Well mate, this was well needed, and I’m glad I’ve got you to do this with. Don’t let me be the only one who calls for a pub night though, cause it sounds like you’re dealing with your own demons and if you ever need a night out, just let me know.” Laying a hand on Greg’s shoulder, he gave the man a smile. 

          “I’ll keep that in mind, really. Though I think maybe I’ve figured it out this time. Hopefully. You never really know what you’re getting into with the Holmes boys, but… I think Caroline’s honest this time around with wanting to make this right. Even talked a little about having kids. Here’s to hoping, yeah?” John tried hard not to wince when the man talked about her being ‘honest’ this time, trying to give him a convinced smile. 

          “You’d make a great dad, Greg. If you can handle the Holmes brothers, you could handle anything a child could throw your way,” He chuckled, trying to keep it light. “Get home safe mate, I’ll catch you later, yeah?” Looking to him one last time, John smiled as he walked down the street, hailing a cab and making his way back home. The lights were still on as he looked up at the flat, and he knew Sherlock wouldn’t be asleep, but he hadn’t expected to see Mycroft when he walked in. Frowning, he let out a huff as he looked to the older brother. “I’m not saying I agree with what you did to Greg, but I understand. Believe me, I understand more than anyone what the threat of danger and torture can do to a relationship. All I am saying, is that if you really love him, you wouldn’t have done what you did. I stayed with mine through the fact of danger, and it made us stronger.” John tried to be tough about it, and he knew the boys probably could have deduced the whole story just from those few lines, but he found the alcohol had made him a bit more brazen at the moment. Giving them both a curt nod, he walked towards the bathroom, wanting to shower before heading to bed. 

*****

          Sherlock stared in disbelief as John stood his ground, wavering only a little before he made his way to the bathroom. Turning his attention to Mycroft, he caught his brother’s gaze, knowing that he was just as stunned as he was. 

          “He doesn’t have any memories of before, so this is just from this lifetime.” Sherlock said, his voice soft as he brought his hands to a steeple, his brain running in a thousand directions as he tried to deduce when this could have happened for John, and with whom. The hard part was that, as it may have been true in this life, it certainly had been true in lifetimes before. “Mycroft..” He started, but his brother held up a hand, and he could see the pain in his brother’s eyes. Normally, he would take advantage of these moments, but he could tell now was not the time. Letting out a sigh, Sherlock watched as his brother left, the air heavy around them with the weight of John’s words. 

*****

          While it wasn’t the Christmas Greg had been hoping for by a long shot, it also wasn’t the worst Christmas he had endured either. Since they were going up to Caroline sister’s the next day to celebrate everything in the morning, she hadn’t minded Greg skipping out to go to the party that John and Sherlock were throwing, though he had been slightly surprised that John had invited along his latest girlfriend. Then again, he didn’t want Caroline and Sherlock to ever meet face to face for obvious reasons. A bit wine drunk and leaning against the entrance to the kitchen, Greg smiled over the little gathering they had at Baker Street as Sherlock entertained them playing on his violin. Biting his tongue to keep from saying anything as Sherlock promptly cocked everything up with John’s girlfriend, though admittedly he couldn’t keep them straight with how fast he cycled through them, Greg at least knew enough to keep his mouth shut when he couldn’t remember something in more than one way. Deciding to get himself another drink if this was how the night was going to be, he ducked back into the kitchen just has he heard Sherlock complain and feet coming up the stairs. Glancing back out, Greg smiled warmly at the sight of Molly joining them. If it wasn’t for Mycroft or Caroline, he’d have certainly given dating her a shot.

          Though maybe that order should have been switched in his head.

          “Hello, everyone. Sorry, hello. It said on the door just to come up.” Molly apologized in her ever nervous fashion, Greg shook his head as he let his eyes drift over the gifts she was carrying, rather sure the lineup of gifts they would all be sharing with one another would probably be best to open around Janette-not-Sarah.

_           “ _ Oh, everybody’s saying hello to each other. How wonderful.” Sherlock dolled, Greg giving him a warning glare as even in his tipsy state he could see how Molly was always so nervous around the detective.

_           “ _ Let me - holy Mary!” John said in surprise as he helped the pathologist out of her coat to reveal her beautifully cut black gown underneath. She certainly put the rest of them to shame, and Greg tried not to think too much about how he was staring at her or how he quickly knocked back the rest of his drink, like he would actually try and get with her while he was with his wife again.

          “Having a Christmas drinkies, then?” Molly asked after a beat, realizing everyone was staring at her and how she was obviously overdressed for the occasion.

          “No stopping them, apparently.” Sherlock huffed, Greg and John both rolling their eyes.

          “It’s the one day of the year where the boys have to be nice to me, so it’s almost worth it!” Mrs Hudson pointed out, her voice still a bit more singsong than normal and everyone clearly making the note to control the amount of alcohol the landlady was allowed to imbibe in at any one time. John brought a seat from the table for Molly to have a place in their little circle before going over to Sherlock where the detective was puttering around on John’s computer, bickering about something on his blog as they always did, John’s back to Janette so he didn’t see the jealous glare she leveled with him.

          “Want a drink?” Greg offered Molly, smiling when she quickly nodded before turning to Mrs Hudson to make a bit of small talk.

_           “ _ How’s the hip?”

          “Ooh, it’s atrocious, but thanks for asking.” Now if that wasn’t about the most British answer Greg had heard since leaving Mycroft, then he’d be damned, he thought with a slight snort as he poured a glass of wine for Molly.

          “I’ve seen much worse, but then I do post-mortems.” Molly quipped back, everyone looking at her a bit awkwardly. “Oh, God. Sorry.”

          “Don’t make jokes, Molly.” Sherlock sighed from the computer where John was still hovering just over his shoulder, Greg starting to wonder if he even realized what he was doing with his girlfriend literally right there. Trying to save Molly from greater embarrassment, Greg handed over the drink he had poured her, smiling when she thanked him.

          “I wasn’t expecting to see you. I thought you were going to be in Dorset for Christmas.” Molly asked, Greg immediately lighting up at the question.

          “That’s first thing in the morning, me and the wife. We’re back together. It’s all sorted.” He announced, about to say that they were going to start trying for a family as well when Sherlock spoke up.

_           “ _ No, she’s sleeping with a P.E. teacher.”

          And just like that everything came crashing down around him, Greg glaring daggers at Sherlock who had never before aired his wife’s affairs so openly before even when they had fought over him getting clean while they were still getting to know each other. Then again, the whole split up with Mycroft had pitted him in the middle of things, so of course he would pick a side like a child going through a divorce. But still, he could just be saying things, right? Trying to get a rise out of them as he tended to do when he got upset. Though it always had some stab of truth, and as Greg played out different situations in his head, he had to come to terms that, yet again, the bastard was probably right. Sherlock was continuing to talk and anger each person in the room, and the moment he turned his sights on Molly, both Greg and John jumped in to try and guard her.

          “Take a day off.” John hissed as Sherlock started deducing something about a boyfriend, Molly’s face quickly paling and blushing at the same time.

          “Shut up and have a drink.” Greg warned, deciding that his history with his wife was nothing like actively embarrassing the girl who had been nothing but patient with Sherlock from the start.

          “Oh, come on. Surely you’ve all seen the present at the top of the bag – perfectly wrapped with a bow. All the others are slapdash at best. It’s for someone special, then.

          The shade of red echoes her lipstick – either an unconscious association or one that she’s deliberately trying to encourage. Either way, Miss Hooper has  _ love _ on her mind. The fact that she’s serious about him is clear from the fact she’s giving him a gift at all. That would suggest long-term hopes, however forlorn; and that she’s seeing him tonight is evident from her make-up and what she’s wearing. Obviously trying to compensate for the size of her mouth and breasts,” Sherlock continued to speak over everyone else until he read the tag, realizing it was for him and a beat too late that he had already reduced her to tears.

          “You always say such horrible things. Every time. Always. Always.” Molly complained, no one quite sure of what to do as Sherlock carefully weighed his options before his shoulders slouched, genuinely dropping his guard for once as he tried to salvage what he could.

          “I am sorry. Forgive me. Merry Christmas, Molly Hooper.” He apologized softly, leaning in to kiss her cheek in thanks just as his phone chimed.

          Or apparently had sex.

          “No! That wasn’t… I, I didn’t…” Molly stuttered, her face nearly as red as the ornaments on the tree at this point as Sherlock waved her off.

          “No, it was me. My phone.” Sherlock explained as he got it from his coat, Greg and Molly both sharing their shock at the whole thing.

          “Fifty-seven? Fifty-seven of those texts – the ones I’ve heard.” John pointed out, Greg raising an eyebrow at the fact that he had been counting, a fact that wasn’t lost on Sherlock as he read the text before taking a small box off of the mantelpiece above the fire and making his way towards his room.

          “What’s up, Sherlock?” John asked gently, looking worried over his flatmate as he passed through caught up in whatever he had just received.

          “I said excuse me.” Sherlock argued, continuing to ignore him as he walked into his room, not closing the door behind him. The rest of their guests continued talking with one another, but from where Greg was standing he could hear the faint murmurs of the conversation, a part of him hating how he could pick out Mycroft’s voice without even trying, and more so of how his chest ached knowing he had quite solidly screwed things up between them for a woman who had never stopped cheating on him. Catching John’s gaze, Greg nodded for him to go and check on Sherlock, quietly making his excuses like everyone else was to leave now that their party had turned for the worst.

*****

          Greg sighed as he leaned back in his seat outside of his flat, staring up at the roof of his car trying to figure out what to say or do before going in. He could see Caroline moving around inside, no doubt getting the last of the packing done for what was supposed to be a fun trip to see her family, but now… Why did Sherlock have to say anything to begin with? Why did he always have to do that, be the center of attention, and attack poor Molly? Of everyone in the room, she deserved it the least. Deciding that nothing would come from just sitting there in his car, Greg climbed out and slowly made his way up to his door, keying it open and shrugging off his coat by the door before heading straight to the kitchen to get something to drink. He was still a little buzzed, and he wanted to make sure he could at least think straight if he was going to confront her on this. Frowning slightly when he heard Caroline start the shower, Greg easily excused it away as she just hadn’t heard him come in, and was finishing up what she needed to. Sorting through the fridge for something to snack on, he elected to make himself a bacon sandwich, chuckling about how that was always his go to meal when he was angry or knew he was about to get into a fight. It was comfort food, something his mum always made him when he came back from school upset, so no doubt that was where it all came from. Waiting for the shower to kick off and for Caroline to come out again, Greg realised at the last moment that he hadn’t even thought to make her something to eat as well. Even with Mycroft, he had still made something for the other to eat. 

          “Oh, hey hun. When did you get home? I thought the party would have lasted longer,” He wanted to believe that she didn’t really know when he had gotten home, wanting to believe she was telling the truth, but god he simply didn’t know anymore. 

          “Right before you got into the shower actually,” He shrugged, brushing off a few crumbs from his shirt before moving to sit at the counter as he continued to watch his wife move around the kitchen. “Me too, actually, but Sherlock decided to be Sherlock and deduced everyone as he does when he’s not getting enough attention.” Greg sighed, the rest of what he was wanting to say dying on the tip of his tongue. He wasn’t good at picking fights like this, not really. 

          “Sounds about right,” Caroline gave a nervous laugh, pausing for a moment at the cupboard, which did not go unnoticed. “So, I’ve got us all packed, and we’re ready to go in the morning. My parents are excited to have us, glad to see you again actually. You know my mom really loves you.” Greg hummed in agreement as Caroline continued to move around, looking so natural back in his flat, even though it wasn’t much like the home they’d had before, but Greg had always been bad about living on his own. 

          “I always did like your mum, too. She actually apologised the first time about everything. Though Sherlock decided that nothing’s really changed after all.” He said in frustration, though his tone was nearly conversational as he looked back down at his hands, not wanting to see or hear what her new excuse was. “I don’t know.” 

          “Greg… I…” She started, reaching out towards him but stopping as he flinched away. 

          “You’re what, Caroline? Sorry? Yeah, I know. It wasn’t anything serious, I was never supposed to find out, it was never supposed to be like this. I’ve heard it all. Only this time, I did it by the books for you. I’ve come home as close to on time as I could, every day, every time, to see you. I checked in with you before going out with friends, instead of just leaving you waiting for me to come home.” Greg said with tired annoyance. He was furious with her, but it had reached a point that he wasn’t even sure what he had expected now that he looked back at the last six months that they had been together. It wasn’t even worth yelling over this time around. “Was there always someone else this time, or did I just get boring again? Which was it this time?” 

          “Greg… It’s not you, really,” She paused, looking down, not even able to look him in the eye. “I just… yes, I’m sorry, even though I know that doesn’t mean anything. You are a good guy, I really do love you, and want to spend my life with you.” 

          “If you wanted to spend your life with me, then you’d spend it with me, and not the next guy who’s willing to buy you a drink.” Greg challenged, finally looking back up at Caroline with an angry glare. “If you really loved me, then you’d be loyal. I know it’s not me, because I’ve only been loyal to you. I never once slept with Mycroft until we called it quits. This is all on you, again. I was an idiot to think that you’d be different this time. I hope whoever you’re with this time, makes you happy. I do. Now take your things, give me my key, and leave, and if you really want to make it up to me, you’ll sign the divorce papers and give me my life back before New Years.” 

          “No, no… Greg, please… Where am I supposed to go? I left my flat, I don’t have a home anymore, it’s here, with you,” 

          “No it’s not.” Greg said bluntly, pulling his hands away from Caroline who had latched onto him, and walked to the bedroom, picking up her suitcase and bringing it to the hall outside the door. “My name is on the lease, this is my flat,  _ my home.  _ Your parents are expecting you in the morning. Go spend the night with your P.E. teacher and stay with your family after. They were expecting us for a few days, they’ll just get to have you longer. I’m not doing this anymore, Caroline. You need to leave,” He said bluntly, not wanting to fight anymore, but not about to let her stay in his flat any longer than absolutely necessary. “You knew exactly what you were doing, and now you’re paying the consequences. Goodbye.” 

          “I can’t just go stay with Craig… Greg please. I’ll leave in the morning to go to my parents, just let me stay here one more night. I’ll even sleep on the couch, just… please.” Caroline begged, grabbing her things and bringing them back into the flat, following him as he paced. “Please, I will leave right away in the morning, I promise. Just… let me stay one more night.” 

          “Caroline.” Greg warned, turning sharp on his heels as he glared her down, his anger starting to get the best of him as she continued to beg. “You are no longer welcome here. This is my flat, do not make me call Donovan and have you removed for trespassing, because I know full well she’d take quite a bit of joy in it. I don’t give a damn where you go right now, but it’s not here. Now get out.” He warned with a low hiss, pointing back at the door and making it perfectly clear that he was no longer playing her game anymore.

          “You’re a right bastard, you know that Greg.” He nearly laughed when Caroline started fighting back against him, clenching his hands at his sides as he reminded himself that he wasn’t in the wrong here. “All I’m asking for is one night and you are throwing me out, with nowhere to go. The old Greg I loved would have never done that to me.” She stood defiantly, setting her suitcase down and crossing her arms over his chest. 

          “The old me let you cheat on him for ten years. I’m not going to do it again. I don’t care if that means that you don’t love me anymore. That should make it easier for you to sign the papers. If you really don’t have a friend that will host you tonight, I’m sure you could call your parents and explain to them what’s going on. I’ll even call your mum for you, if you’d prefer to still blame this on me.” Letting out a huff and stomping her foot, Caroline grabbed her stuff but not before walking straight up to him and staring him down, a scowl on her face. 

          “Yeah, well at least the old you wasn't a poof like you are now. I know this isn’t about me. You didn’t care before, you only care now because you aren’t really into women, are you Greg? Get a taste of that government cock and now you want back,” She snapped, stepping back and heading towards the door. “I’ll sign your damn papers so you can go back to taking it up the arse,” Greg swallowed thickly as Caroline left, her last punch hitting harder than everything else they’d already laid out between each other. This had nothing to do with Mycroft save maybe the fact that he was willing to stand up for himself now, knowing that he was worth more than what Caroline treated him like. Sighing heavily after the door slammed shut behind her, Greg sunk down onto his sofa and buried his face in his hands, not crying, but just questioning what to do next. The silence of being alone was almost as bad as the argument that had just finished, and after a few minutes, Greg grabbed his phone, knowing that he either needed to act now, or Christmas would find him drunk, face down at the bar of some pub. It would be pointless to text John, and no matter how much he wanted to contact ycroft, he didn’t need that answer either. The security team also deserved to have their own christmas with their families as well, leaving Anthea being the only person he could go to without feeling horribly guilty. 

> **Merry Christmas eve. Caroline’s cheating on me again. Just kicked her out… again. Could I spend the night with your family? I’ve got a few gifts for everyone, too. - GL**

          Not soon after sending the message, his phone rang, her name appearing on his screen. 

          “My dear, you know you are always welcome here. I do have one favour to ask you though. Ryan was going to dress up as Santa for Miles tomorrow, but if you are coming over, would you mind so we can both be there when he meets Santa?” Greg found himself laughing as Anthea brought up a clause this time of dressing up for his stay, knowing that she always said he was welcome, but he would never just invite himself over. 

          “I’d be happy to play Santa for Miles, and you know I’ll never just invite myself on over, but thank you. Truly.” He said, starting to feel better and realising that he was actually free from the nightmare that had been his life for years. “I’ll let you know when I get there so I won’t wake anyone. I’ll see you soon.” Greg thanked her one last time before hanging up, unpacking the majority of his suitcase save a small overnight bag. By the time he arrived outside of Anthea’s house, a few poorly wrapped gifts under his arm and his back over his shoulder, Greg texted Anthea that he was outside and smiled warmly when she came to the door, giving her a kiss on the cheek in greeting. “Merry Christmas Ann. You’ll have to forgive me for how horrible I am at wrapping.” 

          “It wouldn’t be Christmas, and it wouldn’t be from you, if it didn’t have your signature wrapping job.” Following her in, he handed the boxes off as she set them under the tree, before following her to the spare bedroom. “I washed the sheets since you’ve been here, but other than that, I’ve left you a toothbrush and some of your things, because like I said, you are always invited. Now, the Santa costume I will put in the cupboard here, and that way, you can get dressed in the morning.” Winking, she moved to the hall and brought it back, hanging it up and turning to him. “Alright love. Get some sleep and we’ll have breakfast in the morning and open gifts.” Greg smiled as he pressed on last parting kiss to Anthea’s cheek, the worst of his sour mood fading with the thought of spending Christmas with a family he genuinely loved, and who loved him back. Getting changed for the night, he laid out on the bed, but found himself staring up at the ceiling, everything that Caroline had said to him playing over and over in his head. Of course he had heard worse, but it was different when it was from someone who always said they loved and cared for you. The fact that she could flip so fast showed him just how wrong he had been in thinking things were different. Sighing heavily and rolling to his side, Greg pulled up the blankets and did his best to force the thoughts away, focusing on what he did have. He had Anthea and Ryan and Miles, who was like a son to him. He had John as a friend, and Sherlock who, for all his insufferable characteristics, was still a great man and getting better each day. He had his team, and Molly, and Mrs. Hudson who was a force to recon with… as long as she wasn’t wine drunk. Even if he couldn’t have Mycroft this time around… well, he was happy enough. Hopefully in the morning he could see the politician, because he couldn’t see why Mycroft would skip out on Christmas with the only family he didn’t hate most of the time. Yawning heavily, Greg finally found himself drifting to sleep, looking forward to the morning which he was sure would come earlier than any of the adults would like with an excited two year old thrown in the mix.  

*****

 

          Mycroft sighed as his brother walked out of the room, leaving him alone with Ms. Hooper and the dead body.   
“Thank you Ms. Hooper.” 

          “Who is she? How did Sherlock recognise her from… not her face?” Honestly, he could tell that she had already been hurt by Sherlock tonight, and didn’t feel like making it worse for her. Instead, he gave her a polite smile before turning and following his brother out, who was now standing in the corridor, looking out the window, silent. When his brother wasn’t talking, it was usually because he was lost deep in thought, and knowing his history with  _ The Woman,  _ he knew this wasn’t a good sign. Grabbing a cigarette from his jacket pocket, Mycroft held it up to his brother, not looking over to the other, instead just looking out the window as well. “Just the one.” 

          “Why?” 

          “Merry Christmas.” It was more of a test, really, to see if Sherlock would take it, as it would tell him how bad things really were with his brother. Frowning when a hand reached out and grabbed the cigarette, Mycroft sighed and reached back into his coat pocket to find the lighter. 

          “Smoke indoors - isn’t there one of those… one of those law things?” Turning to his brother, he held out the lighter, the flame licking the end of the cigarette till it burned orange with Sherlock's breath in. 

          “We’re in a morgue. There’s only so much damage you can do. How did you you know she was dead?” 

          “She had an item in her possession, one she said her life depended on. She chose to give it up.” Mycroft turned to look out the window again, his thoughts running over the details his brother was willing to give up, smoke filling the air around them as Sherlock took another drag. 

          “Where is this item now?” A muffled sound of people sobbing rang through the silent hall, both of them turning to face a family standing on the other side of the doors, clearly grieving over the loss of someone, more than likely as they were in the morgue. 

          “Look at them. They all care so much. Do you ever wonder if there’s something wrong with us?” 

          “All lives end. All hearts are broken,” Their lives did not, but after centuries of losing the one’s they loved, their hearts had been broken time and time again, though it seemed more so in this life than in the others. “Caring is not an advantage, Sherlock.” It was something he was starting to vehemently believe in, especially as it neared a year since he had left Gregory, and his heart could not heal, and it still ached coming home to an empty home, reminders of the other still present, like echos through the halls. 

          “This is low tar.” Rolling his eyes, Mycroft looked over to his brother who was looking at the cigarette in disgust. 

          “Well, you barely knew her.” That apparently struck the wrong chord with his brother who was now walking down the corridor, flicking the ash from the cigarette onto the floor. 

          “Merry Christmas Mycroft.” 

          “And a happy New Year.” Pulling his mobile out, Mycroft hit the speed dial he had saved for John, lifting the phone to his ear and waiting till Sherlock walked through the doors to speak. “He’s on his way. Have you found anything?” 

          “No. Did he take the cigarette?” 

          “Yes.” 

          “Shit. He’s coming. Ten minutes.” 

          “There’s nothing in the bedroom.” Mrs. Hudson’s voice came through in the background, Mycroft’s lips pressing into a thin line as he listened to them scurry to finish searching the flat. 

          “Looks like he’s clean. We’ve tried all the usual places. Are you sure tonight’s a danger night?” 

          “No, but then I never am. You have to stay with him, John.” 

          “I’ve got plans.” 

          “No.” Frowning, Mycroft hit end, hanging up before John was able to get another word in, Ms. Hooper now coming out of the door and standing near him.

          “Is everything - were you smoking in here? You Holmes’ always think you can just do whatever you want. This is a hospital!” Molly snapped, storming over to the window and cracking it open. “Who was she? Why would you care?” Instead of answering the question, he just stepped back and let her access the window, shivering slightly as he felt the cold air wash over him. 

          “Her name was Irene Adler, and she was a threat to the British government. A wanted woman, and a very  dangerous woman. I am here because Sherlock cared more than he likes to admit, but only because she was a mental match for him. I fear that it could be dangerous for him tonight, and the good doctor has agreed to watch over him.” Mycroft sighed, shifting his weight and looking back up to her. “Despite what my brother likes to tell everyone, I do care deeply for him, and don’t want him to send himself to oblivion at the hands of drugs.” 

          “So you don’t believe that ‘caring is not an advantage.’” Molly challenged, wrapping her arms around herself. “Or are you just trying to convince yourself of that? Like trying to believe that Sherlock really does feel bad about humiliating everyone at the party tonight.” She muttered before looking back at him. 

          “Caring, my dear,  _ is not  _ an advantage. It hurts, and makes us do things we wouldn’t normally. Makes people act irrationally, put themselves in situations they normally wouldn’t. That does not mean that I do not care. I just know that it hurts and that even when I do try to care for Sherlock, he still lashes at me with horrible things, like you experienced. No matter what I do, I feel as if it does not make a lot of difference.” Mycroft said very pointedly, trying to keep his voice from shaking in anger and hurt as he thought about the rift between his brother and himself. 

          “He just listed everyone’s lives out there like it’s a game. It’s not funny to play with people like that. Greg didn’t even do anything to him, but he said that his wife’s cheating on him again. He was excited before then, too. Then he told John how his sister is drinking again, humiliated me like always does… Why do you two always have to act like you rule the world and everyone in it?” To make matters worse, she mentioned Sherlock tearing into Gregory and telling him that Caroline was cheating again, which only opened up a whole new wound. He was aware that they might be seeing one another again, but he never confirmed that fact, not wanting to know. Now he did, and he knew that his love was aching, most likely alone on Christmas eve. 

          “Where did Gregory go, after the party?” Mycroft’s voice was soft, barely audible as he looked out the window, not wanting Ms. Hooper to see more than she already had with him.

          “I don’t know where he went after, not for sure. I’d assume he went home to break up with her, at least, I hope he did. You two were so good for each other, I don’t understand why you two broke up, but I’m not exactly very good at relationships so maybe I should just stop… talking… now…” Staying silent for a little longer, he looked to Molly as she moved to close the window. 

          “It would seem that Moriarty has affected us all, more than we would like. I’m sorry for what he did to you, you don’t deserve that, Ms. Hooper.” Turning to face the woman, he placed a hand on her shoulder, showing the first bit of passion for someone other than Anthea in a long time. “I still love him, but I worry for his safety with a man like Moriarty targeting Sherlock, and our family. Please, Ms. Hooper. I know you don’t owe me anything, but I just ask that you are there for Gregory, because he needs his friends, especially if what Sherlock said tonight is true,” He had no doubt that Caroline would cheat on him, and it was taking all of his self control not to call the man and check in on him. 

          “If you love him, then go be that friend you say he needs.” Molly argued, gently rolling her shoulder away from his hand. “Sherlock hasn’t left John to protect him from Moriarty, so why did you? You need a friend, to.. We all do. Call him. Wish him a Merry Christmas. Somthing. Just… you always lock yourself away. I know I don’t have much room to talk, but even if you won’t let yourself have a relationship, you don’t need to be alone. That’s why I have Toby. My cat. God, I should really stop talking.” 

          “I wish things were that simple.” Mycroft muttered, looking down the corridor, the family now gone that had been there before. “Merry Christmas, Ms. Hooper. Thank you.” Giving her a curt nod, he started down the hall, his heart aching as he thought about everything he had learned tonight. Making his way out towards his car, he contacted his security team, asking for an update on Gregory’s status, and had a reply after a few minutes that he was with Anthea. At least he wasn’t alone tonight, or in some bar drinking himself into oblivion, but he knew he’d have to message her and tell her that he wouldn’t be attending Christmas, to give Gregory some space. Slipping into the car, Mycroft closed his eyes as he sat in silence, the car making its way back to his very empty flat, his heart heavy.  


	39. XXXIII

_           ”That’s all it takes: One lonely, naïve man, desperate to show off, and a woman clever enough to make him feel special.” Mycroft snipped, his face pulled into a scowl as he looked to his brother. Sherlock didn’t seem to understand though, didn’t realise what his actions had done.  _

_ “Hmm. You should screen your defense people more carefully.” How could he be so arrogant, so pig headed? Slamming the tip of his umbrella on the floor, Mycroft can feel his blood boil. _

_ “I’m not talking about the MOD man, Sherlock, I’m talking about you!” He practically shouts, Sherlock frowning and looking genuinely confused. God, his brother could be so full of himself, yet so ignorant sometimes, it irritated him beyond belief. “The damsel in distress. In the end, are you really so obvious? Because this was textbook: the promise of love, the pain of loss, the joy of redemption; then give him a puzzle…” Mycroft was softer this time, watching as realisation started to spread across his brother’s face. “… and watch him dance.” This time he whispered, twirling the end of his brolly in the air. _

_ “Don’t be absurd.” _

_ “Absurd? How quickly did you decipher that email for her? Was it the full minute, or were you really eager to impress?” He wasn’t sure what this woman had done to Sherlock, or how she had dug her claws in, as he had  _ never _ seen his brother so affected by someone who wasn’t John Watson, but whatever she did, it must have been one hell of a trick. _

_ “I think it was less than five seconds.” Speak of the devil herself, and she will appear, the woman standing at the end of the room, dressed to the ‘T’. _

_ “I drove you into her path…” He had hoped that Sherlock would be able to handle the situation, but it appeared, he was wrong. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” _

Mycroft stared out the window in his office, his hands in a steeple in front of his lips as he recalled that dreadful meeting, and how it came around with a surprising twist, but that still didn’t make up for the fact that valuable information was given off to Moriarty. No matter how he tried, the man was always a step ahead of them. The sound of his mobile buzzing on the desk brought his attention back to the present, his features pulling into a frown as he looked to the device, Gregory’s name flashing across his screen. There was a tightness in his chest as he looked, worried about what it might say. Sighing, he picked the phone up, his finger hovering over the icon for a few seconds before he finally pressed it and the message displayed across his screen. 

*****

Caroline had kept her word about signing the divorce papers once and for all before New Years, but somehow it didn’t bring the relief that Greg had hoped it would. He still had his flat, though it felt larger than it ever did to begin with, now that someone else wasn’t filling the space as well. Somehow, someone had broken the new to his team as well, and everyone had stupidly assumed that he would have been excited about that, coming around and congratulating him and offering him drinks. Greg wanted to punch every single one of them until finally Donovan sorted out that he was actually upset and started pushing them all away. 

The next days weren’t much better, and Greg found himself sitting in his chair, staring down at a small goldfish swimming around in a bowl, the D.I. cycling between wanting to just go and flush it right then and there, or to bite the bullet and just get it an actual tank and give it a home. Hearing someone walk by and mention something about his divorce to another officer, Greg felt his anger build up in his chest and grabbed his phone, immediately texting Mycroft, as he knew good and well who had done this, and for stome stupid reason he found himself angry at Mycroft for it. 

> **There’s a goldfish on my desk. -GL**
> 
> **In a bowl, on my desk. -GL**
> 
> **Your brother left a damned goldfish on my desk. -GL**
> 
> **Your goddamned brother called out my wife’s indiscretions in front of everyone at his place like it was some fucking party trick and now I have a goddamned fish on my desk, and I’m not dealing with this right now. Send one of your minions to get it out of my office. -GL**

There wasn’t a response, and honestly he wasn’t surprised, but a part of him had hoped that maybe Mycroft would have texted him back. Sighing, he set down his mobile and continued to work, an hour passing before anyone decided to disturb him. Greg clinched his jaw when he heard the knock at his door, more than ready to order whomever it was coming right the hell in to get out, until he saw that it was Anthea. 

“Hey hun,” 

“Oh. Hey. Hi.” He greeted softly, sitting back in his chair with a heavy sigh that seemed to deflate him entirely. “Why the hell did Sherlock leave me a fish? What does that mean?” Greg asked as he ran a hand through his hair, resting his wrist against his forehead as he leaned back and closed his eyes. “God, I don’t even know what’s going on with my team. Somehow they found out about my divorce getting finalised with Caroline, and they think I’m happy about my life just falling apart…” He found himself starting to vent, groaning in more frustration. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m venting to you as soon as you walk in the door. Think Miles might want a pet?” 

“He just might.” Anthea dipped her finger into the top of the bowl, swirling it around as the fish swam. “We will name him Hippurus. It literally means ‘gold-fish’ in Latin,” She chuckled, smiling softly as she looked back up to him. 

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” Greg muttered with a laugh, shaking his head at naming the damned goldfish ‘gold-fish’, but it got him to laugh either way. 

“No worse than people naming their dogs spot or fluffy or something of that sort,” 

“Spot and fluffy are descriptive names. You don’t see people naming their dog ‘Dog’.” Greg teased, sighing as he looked to the other. 

“Look, dear. Sherlock, though he went about it in the wrong way, is concerned for you. He knows that you are hurting, and that you have been miserable. I’ve seen the same, and I know this break up between you and Mycroft hasn’t been good for either of you. So I am going to give you a bit of advice. He’s in the office, right now, and because I am with you I can let you in no questions asked. Go in, talk to him, and I’m going to tell you what I said all those years ago when he first shut you out. Don’t give him a choice.” Anthea caught his gaze, looking at him intently, her voice stern but soft. 

“What on earth am I going to say to him? We love each other, yes, but nothing has changed except that I’m actually single now. I really doubt storming into that office and telling him to take me back isn’t going to do anything, save maybe just anger him more than I already have.” Greg sighed, dragging his hands over his face before looking back to the other. 

“Remind him why you two are together, what you have been through, and that no matter what has happened throughout the centuries, you two have always come to one another. Just because Richard is back, doesn’t mean that you should be apart. You both are miserable, and neither of you deserves this. He thinks he is doing this for your protection, but he doesn’t realise how hard this has been on you. Remind him that you would rather be with him, risks and all, than to be apart and miserable.” Of course she had a point, though that really shouldn’t have been a surprise anymore. She was able to stay neutral but know far more than Greg ever could about the nature of their relationship, always able to talk some sense into them when neither of them wanted to listen. 

“I’d say that I hope you’re right, but you always are. It’s annoying.” He said with a smik, looking around at his desk before taking Anthea’s hand to help him up. “But I do hope you’re right.” 

“Of course I’m always right, and I’m a mom now, so that gives me even more credit,” She chuckled, walking with him out towards the black car. 

Greg hated the fact that he had allowed Anthea to convince him that this was a good idea. What on earth was he going to say to Mycroft after… nine months apart? Almost ten now. He had no idea what he was doing except for showing up, uninvited at his ex’s office to try and get them back together… and dear lord did that make him sound pathetic now that he played it over in his head. Wondering if he would be able to somehow give Anthea the slip, he immediately scrapped that idea because he knew it was stupid, and instead he followed her down the hall towards his office, taking one last long pause to collect himself before stepping through the door. 

“Anthea?” He could hear Mycroft call from inside the office, his chest tight as he heard that voice for the first time in a long time. He was frozen, not able to form words, and he could hear the man getting closer, the door swinging open. He looked… tired. Exhausted, really. He looked the same after those long international meetings that they had always hated so much, and Greg found that deep pull all the same to take Mycroft into his arms and hold him close. 

“Mycroft,” He breathed, swallowing thickly before looking anxiously over towards Anthea for some sort of help, though she had already disappeared to God knows where. “Mycroft. Look. I uh… Why the hell did Sherlock leave me a goldfish?” Greg tried, though he wasn’t really sure just what he was going for at the moment. “No, skip that. That’s not important. You can’t just ditch me. Being apart isn’t keep us safe, you have to know that. Realise that. You look like hell, I know I look the same, we’re just tearing ourselves apart. What are we doing this for? Really?” 

“Gregory, I really don’t have more to say on the matter, and I haven’t changed my mind. I know I may not be in the best of shape because of this, but you are safe, and Richard cannot find you. Now, I’m sorry about the fish, and I sent Anthea to collect it. I will have a word with my brother.” 

“Miles is getting it. He can have it as a pet. Anthea’s already named it too. Hipporus? Hippurus. That one. Goldfish the goldfish because why the hell not.” He chuckled, shaking his head and crossing his arms as he planted himself where he stood in the hall to show that he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. “My, if Richard or Moriarty or whatever his name is today, was going to find me, he would have with or without you! How many lives have we had together now? Twelve? I don’t know how many it took before Moriarty came across Sherlock and became obsessed, but if he really wanted you, don’t you think he would have gotten me by now? He isn’t about us, he’s about Sherlock and John, and they’re still together! We’re talking about the guy who purposefully avoided finding his mate just to make sure that he wouldn’t hurt him, and now that he’s back, Sherlock won’t leave his side for a second and sulks when he’s away for ten minutes! I promised my Mémé that I would fight for you, and that’s what I am doing right now. Fighting.” Watching the other intently, Mycroft just shook his head, taking one last look in his direction before retreating into his office. “Mycroft,” Greg sighed, looking back at Anthea now that she had returned, the woman nodding her head for him to follow before sitting at her desk to get some work done for the day. Following the politician into his office, Greg shut the door behind him before sitting in the chair behind the man’s desk, watching him pour a rather healthy glass of whiskey, his chest both clenching in sorrow and burning in anger at the fact that he felt the need to drink over this. “Mycroft, Caroline signed the divorce papers. I’m yours. And Moriarty… I’m telling you, My, if he wanted to get me, he would have already. Why do you keep making yourself miserable when we don’t have to be? We’re supposed to be together, My. Even Sherlock, in his weird little way, thinks so. Look, if you want to keep a measure of distance between us, then fine, but don’t just turn your back on me. Don’t do this.”  

“I am sorry that Caroline treated you as she did, you deserve better. I am also sorry to know that your coworkers have not respected your space and only made things worse, knowingly or not.” Greg sighed and fought the urge to throw or kick something in frustration, wanting Mycroft to just think for one goddamn second about everything from the outside, instead of the emotional black hole of guilt he had made for himself surrounding Moriarty. 

“You keep saying sorry, but I’m not sure you really mean it half the time.” He muttered, forcing down enough of his anger and frustration to keep himself from completely blowing up as he stood to start pacing the room. “Do you even want to fight for me? Moriarty be damned, if things were flipped, if I had walked out on you, would you be fighting for me? Or am I just really that pathetic and desperate to not be alone? Because dammit, My, I can’t go a day anymore without some whisper of something coming to me, and only half of it makes sense because apparently a fair amount of history is wrong, and I’m tired of following Anthea around like a lost puppy! Decide, right now, and I mean right fucking now, are you going to fight for me or not? Because if your answer is no, then I really am sorry and I’ll leave this office and never return, and you won’t have to worry about me again. Because I’m done, My. I’m done fighting for people who don’t care about my happiness.” 

“I have been fighting for you since the first day I met you, Gregory, and I do  _ not  _ take kindly to anyone accusing me of something different. Just because you refuse to see that I am doing this to protect you, does not mean that I don’t love you, or that I don’t want to be with you. I am more miserable now than I have ever been without you. This hurts more than when you are not alive, but if it means that I can keep you out of the grasp of someone like Richard, I will suffer through whatever horrors await me, if it means you are safe. I would die for you, Gregory, so don’t think for one second that I don’t care about your happiness!” Mycroft turned towards him, his knuckles white where he gripped the glass. 

“Are you even listening, Mycroft? To yourself or anyone else? He doesn’t care about me! He doesn’t care about us! He’s focused on Sherlock, because if he wanted the chance to come after me, he would have already! He doesn’t want us, he wants Sherlock!” Greg ranted, wheeling around and slamming both hands down on Mycroft’s desk to stare him down.

“And if he can’t get to Sherlock, do you know who he comes for?! Who he  _ has  _ come after already!? Just because you aren’t aware doesn’t mean that it hasn’t happened. Richard has come after me, has been in contact with me, trying to get information about Sherlock out of me! I have kept you away from that, and of course he hasn’t come for you, because he has no idea where you are, or what you look like this life, thanks to the fact that I care enough to separate myself from you!” Mycroft raised his voice. “Why do you think Sherlock went so many years without looking for John? Because Richard killed him, and he feared it would happen again. Your life is fragile, and the last time you died before your time, you were gone for hundreds of years, and I thought I had lost you for good. I can’t… I can’t do that again… I want to be there for you, and it takes all of my self control not to go back to you. My heart aches seeing you hurt and upset and torn, all alone, but at least you are alive and I know you can come back to me. If you die by Richards hands, I’m not sure I will ever see you again, and I’d rather die than let that happen.” 

“Questo  è ridicolo, ho finito-”  _ This is ridiculous, I’m done-  _ Greg started in Italian before cutting himself off in confusion, his arms wavering slightly as he shifted his hold, fighting against the stabbing pain through his head before it disappeared, just as fast as it came. “You know what the worst thing is, My? Not the headaches, not waking up with nosebleeds, it’s the fear that if I do keep remembering, if I do remember everything, I’ll go crazy like he did without you. I don’t know what’s happening anymore, and the only people I have to talk about it with are you, Anthea, and Ryan. I can’t talk with my friends or my family. I’m completely alone, and half of these things don’t even make sense because of how useless the memories are.” Greg didn’t know what more he could do as he dropped himself back into the chair, rubbing at the side of his head where it still pinged slightly from the remnants of his headache. It always hurt to see Mycroft get upset to the point of tears, which he knew was rare, but it was always over him. He didn’t want to leave the man, not really, but if this was what he had to do to protect Mycroft from himself as well, then so be it. “I love you, My. God knows how I do, but if this is what you really think is necessary, then I’m done fighting a one sided battle for us. I really hope I see you again in this life, but… I don’t know what you’ll allow anymore. If this is goodbye, then… goodbye.” He sighed, pushing himself up out of the chair and looking back at the other, barely keeping his own pain and emotions in check as he watched the politician. Fighting Caroline the last time had been easy, as he knew he was in the right and she was in the wrong. This time, though, he wasn’t sure if there was a right or wrong. “I won’t interrupt you like this again. I’m sorry.” Just as he reached the door, Anthea came flying through, her expression stern as she blocked the way so he couldn’t leave. 

“Dammit, Mycroft. I sent him in here for a good reason, and he’s trying his best to get you to listen, and you,” She turned her attention to Gregory, fire in her eyes, “You give up far too easy and are too much of a push over. I told you not to give him a choice, and yet you’re letting him talk his way out of it. Both of you are ridiculous, and neither one of you is leaving this room till you work this out. Gregory, it  _ is  _ dangerous, and Richard  _ has  _ come after Mycroft, but I know you don’t care and you are willing to take that risk. Just know he’s not only after Sherlock. And Mycroft, I know you want to protect him, to make sure he’ll come back to you, but you have just as much chance of losing him if he dies without you, as you do if he dies early. So both of you, get your heads out of your arses and work this out!” Greg blinked as Anthea lectured them both, taking a small step back and looking towards the ground as he found himself murmuring a soft apology before she left the office and shut the door on them, half wondering if she had locked it too, only to allow them out once they made up. 

“By far the most dangerous thing for that woman to have ever done, was to become a mum.” He joked softly, sitting back in the chair and burying his face in his hands. He didn’t want to look back at Mycroft, as he didn’t want to see the pain and frustration and anger he knew was there, because he felt the same. “I know you are willing to die for me, and I am too. I’d rather that happen together than apart, My. I don’t care that I could become a target beside you, because if he has come after you before, he will again. If he’s as smart as everyone says he is, he’ll figure out who I am, it’s just a matter of time. What’s the difference between now and a year from now if we still aren’t together? If it’s my fate to die, then let me have it with you, knowing all the risks and being happy. Let me do it at your side, let me do it knowing that I’m with who I’m supposed to be with, not that I died hiding away from some monster that goes boo in the dark. You can know that I did everything knowing the risks, and still chose you.” Greg was quiet, waiting, and after a few moments he felt the other place a hand on his knee. 

“I’m sorry, Gregory…” 

“When I first went back to Caroline, I thought that maybe we just weren’t supposed to meet each other this time. That maybe it was an accident, because there are times I remember things from lives that you aren’t a part of. I had a dream one night of an entire life, and I just… I don’t want to keep doing this without you there, My. I need you to be here, to make sense of things, because the more I remember the more confused I get. There’s all these pieces floating around in my head and I can’t connect them just yet, but you can. You help.” He explained softly, finally looking at the man as he rubbed his thumb along the back of Mycroft’s wrist. “We don’t know what Moriarty is going to do next, and I know that terrifies you, but let me in, let me help… please.” Mycroft broke down, reaching and wrapping his arms around his shoulders. 

“I’m so scared I will lose you, Gregory. I thought that Sherlock was wrong for not wanting to find John, to prevent Richard from hurting him, but I understand now. I just… I can’t imagine… what if something happens to you? I’m so sorry,” Greg gently hushed Mycroft as he wrapped his arms tight around him too, holding him close and rubbing small circles along the back of his neck with his fingers. 

“There’s a lot of ‘what if’s’ in the world, love. I work in homicides, anything could happen, with or without Moriarty in the picture. If we let him decide what we do with our lives, then he’s already gotten what he wants out of us, hasn’t he? Let’s fight him, let’s fight for us, and make sure he doesn’t win, at least not on his terms.” He murmured, gently pushing Mycroft up to look him in the eye, doing what he could to brush away some of the tears as he cupped his face in his hands. “My, I love you. I had the choice of who I was going to be with, and I’ve made my decision. Let’s do this together, okay?” 

“I love you too, Gregory. More than I will ever be able to say. Will you… will you come back home?” Greg smiled and waited for Mycroft to collect himself before leaning in and answering his question with a slow kiss, one that he didn’t allow to tumble into the want he could feel just beneath their skin at the moment. While he wanted to be with his love again, of course he did, he needed that base of trust to be built up again before he would be willing to have a random shag over the side of Mycroft’s desk. 

“Take me to Oia. You said that was your escape before, that you have a home there. Take me there?” He asked softly, once they had broken their kiss, still holding the other close. “We can start a new, yeah?” 

“That sounds perfect. We’ll leave as soon as possible, and while we are gone, the team can manage your things, and take care of your flat, if that is alright? Gives us a peace of mind, and time to start fresh. That is… as soon as Anthea allows us out of this office. I do believe she locked the door.” 

“Let me sort out my things,” Greg murmured softly, not wanting another fight, but wanting to be in control of his life again. “I’ll either transfer the lease or break it and come back home, and I know I’ll need to look into how much time I have off first.” He decided, chuckling as he leaned back in his chair and glanced towards the door. “It would be useful to be able to get out. I don’t think Donovan would believe me if I called her to say I was locked in your office. She would either assume I’m now dead or that we were doing something else. We could just call Anthea and promise her that we’ll behave and don’t have to be on the naughty step anymore.” 

“As you wish my darling.” Mycroft smiled softly, reaching up to cup his face and rubbing his thumb over his cheekbone. “You know, I have been meaning to get a new safe house, as I tend to change locations over time. I didn’t want to get rid of it while you and I weren’t… well I didn’t want to let it go and leave you without an option should you choose to use it. If you are okay with it, we can transfer it to my name, and that solves two problems at once…” Greg’s smile faded slightly as he considered his current flat and everything that would have to go into fixing it up to be anything like what Mycroft already had, but the idea didn’t sound like a bad. 

“I certainly wouldn’t have a problem with it. We could even keep it in my name if you wanted, just have you take over the payments. Throw anyone off your trail if you needed it, and mine if I did too. Your only challenge will be the landlord, I think,” 

“We would transfer it into the identity we created specifically for the safe house, a name with no actual connection to anyone, so if someone tried to look into them, they would come up with nothing.” Mycroft groaned as he stood, Greg chuckling when the other pushed himself back up to stand with a grunt. “Just because I only look to be in my forties, I think you forget that I am well into my two thousands,” 

“Old man,” Greg teased, simply glad to have Mycroft back beside him and feeling more at ease than he had in… a year, since they had been apart. Taking his hand, he smiled faintly back to Anthea as she opened the door, giving them both a nod and stepping to the side in order to let them pass. 

“Good. Now the rest of the world can get on, too.” Anthea muttered, Greg responding with a snort of a laugh as he checked his watch for the time. “I have to get back to the office. I’ll call when I’m off, okay?” He assured Mycroft, leaning up to give him a quick kiss on the cheek. 

“I will see you tonight, my love.” Smiling, he turned towards Anthea, giving her a kiss on the cheek as well, before whispering just soft enough that Mycroft couldn't hear. “Thank you. Even if you did put us in the naughty corner first,” 

“I’m happy to have my boys back,” She smiled, giving him a soft hug before he headed out the office, a smile on his face as he knew things were going to be alright. 

*****

Mycroft hung up the phone, setting the device down on the table as he closed his eyes, soaking up the sun. The breeze from the sea kissed his skin, letting out a sigh as he listened to the sounds of the waves crashing over the shore. The awning and breeze seemed to help with the heat, and he didn’t feel like he was being smothered by it like he had in Egypt, but that didn’t mean he still didn’t use copious amounts of sunscreen. Gregory was inside, preparing a late lunch, the smells of the food wafting through the open door. The man looked good with a tan, but his skin just seemed to accumulate more freckles as their holiday went on. 

“I’m guessing the mess with my old flat is finally sorted? I told you that landlord was a force to be dealt with, but did you really have to buy out the whole block? Bit overkill, don’t you think?” As Gregory leaned in, Mycroft snuck a quick kiss onto his cheek before looking down at the food, closing his eyes and letting the savoury smells hit him. 

“Yes, well, if they hadn’t made such a problem about the transfer, or the renovations that I wanted to do in order to ensure the place was secure, I wouldn’t have resorted to such drastic measures. Honestly, drawing out the whole process for nearly two months…” He huffed, looking to the other as if it were obvious that the next logical step would be to completely buy them out. “Plus, now I can renovate all of the flats, and upgrade the housing for my staff. I’m sure they will all appreciate it.” As always, he waited for Gregory to take a bite first before digging in, letting out an indecent moan as he slipped a bite between his lips, letting it sit on his tongue so he could appreciate the flavours longer. “Gods, how I lived without your cooking is beyond me.”

“You are allowed to balk at changes to your home when you don’t get a straight answer as to why, you know,” Gregory argued, shaking his head and smiling to him. “I guess it’s just that it didn’t have to be  _ that  _ flat. It would have been easier to have just broken the lease. As for the food, it’s beyond me too, having seen you in the kitchen on your own.” 

“It’s the principle of the matter Gregory!” Mycroft said, more as a matter of fact than anything. His smile quickly turned into a frown when Gregory teased him about his lack of skill in the kitchen, nothing too serious as he knew the man was only being playful. 

“Don’t do that, My. Come on, you rag on yourself just as much, if not more,” His partner moved, standing and taking a seat on his lap, leaning his head against his shoulder. 

“Yes, well, I have tried time and time again to pick up cooking but I just cannot seem to do it. Though, I do seem to be able to do your prep work… with little to no mishaps,” He shrugged, looking up at the other with a smirk. 

“See? I still have use for you yet,” Gregory teased. Finishing their breakfast, Mycroft sighed and leaned back, letting Gregory lay across his chest, those arms wrapped around his shoulders as they watched the sea, the light dancing over the waves and the birds flying over the water. “I can see why you love it here so much. I keep telling myself I want to explore the city, go do other things, but it’s so nice right here I can’t seem to find the energy to do much of anything.” 

“It’s so very calm, and quiet, and peaceful. I never feel rushed, or like I must go out and do something, and I can keep to myself here without feeling like I’m isolated from the world either.” Mycroft ran a hand over the other’s arm, letting out a deep breath, content to sit and watch the scenery. “And, even though it’s warm here, the breeze keeps me from overheating, which only adds to the appeal,” 

“It really is perfect. I may have to get you to start coming her a little more often now,” Gregory pressed a kiss to his chest before laying his head back down, Mycroft giving the other a soft chuckle. It was a lovely afternoon, sitting on the porch, listening to the sounds of the wind and sea, closing his eyes and just feeling the weight of the other on his chest. Mycroft could stay there indefinitely. Unfortunately, as the sun started to dip down it became more and more uncomfortable, the awning no longer blocking the sun and his skin heating up. Gently nudging Gregory, who he was sure had dozed off again, they stood and stretched, clearing the plates from the table and finally just standing under the awning with a glass of cool water. “So, what would you like to do next?” Since they had got back together they fell into a familiarity with one another, but it hadn’t been quite the same as before, not in a bad way though. They had been taking it a bit slower, working things out, and not resorting to fixing their problems the easy way only for them to crop back up again later. That being said, when Gregory posted the question about what he wanted to do, there was no question in his mind that he wanted him. His silver fox. They had fallen back into simple touches, kisses and cuddling in bed and on the sofa, but it still had been long past a year since they had done anything more. Leaning in, Mycroft place a kiss on the man’s neck, slowly making his way up towards Gregory’s ear before nibbling on it. 

“I’d very much like to have you, my moon and stars.” Gregory set his glass down and moved to cradle his head in his hands, kissing him deeply as Mycroft melted to his touch. 

“Then take me to bed, my sun.” He wasn’t sure what it was about that name that sent fire racing through his veins, but he had loved it from the first time Gregory had used it. Instead of moving quickly to the bedroom, Mycroft took a moment to deepen the kiss, letting his hands trail down the man’s side, pressing in close but not heating things up too quickly. He wanted to savour this moment, make it last, especially because it had been so long since they had done this. Not to mention the last time they did, it had been a disastrous one night stand that ended horribly. Instead, he wanted to make up for that, to treat Gregory, taste him, explore him and making him come undone completely and wholly. Moving them inside, he began to undress the man as they walked towards the bedroom, his hands never leaving the other’s skin for more than a few minutes. Slowly peeling off his shirt and tossing it to the side, he allowed his hands to roam over the man’s chest, his fingertips dancing across those sensitive spots. Gregory’s knees found the edge of the bed and he dropped down onto it with a slight huff, Mycroft shrugging his own shirt from his shoulders and climbing to straddle the man’s waist. “You are always so amazing, so… captivating. I love you. I love you, and I know this is where I belong.” 

“And you, my darling, are decadent, delicious, divine,” He purred, pressing a burning kiss to the man’s lips. “I love you more than I can say, and I knew from the day I met you, that I was desperately yours.” He let the kisses build as he tasted, teased, explored every last bit of the other’s mouth, pressing his body down against the others and loving the feel of his skin against his own. “My love, you will always be mine,” Trailing his lips down the man’s jaw and neck, he bit down on the man’s collar bone, leaving small marks as he went and not worrying if they would be visible and they had plenty of time for them to disappear before they went home. “Stay with me love, I need you to stay this life. After all we’ve been through, all you remember, I can’t imagine living without you again.” 

“This has to be my last time, I can feel it, even if I can’t remember everything yet. It’s like… how you know someone’s behind you without looking, I just… I know.” Gregory murmured, biting down and leaving his own marks along Mycroft’s neck. 

“You best be right,” A deep moan rumbled through his chest as Gregory bit along his neck, his hips rolling down against the others as the man started to shimmy below him, working his trousers and pants off. Chuckling, Mycroft stood, ridding himself of his clothing as well and rolling his eyes as he saw Gregory climb up the bed and get the lube out. “A bit eager are we? Well I hope you understand, that enjoy it or not, I intend to take this very slowly.” 

“Just because I enjoy the slow pace doesn’t mean I want to stop when we can’t quite reach the drawer,” Moving to the bed, he made his way up, pinning the other back down with a kiss. Mycroft rolled their hips together again, letting out a moan as he felt Gregory’s prick rub so deliciously against his own. “Here’s to hoping we’ll be able to last until then,” The man joked as they lazily rocked against one another, their sighs and moans filling the space between them. It was something they both wanted to savour, yet they were starving for more at the same time. “Mycroft… I want you. I want everything. I love you.” Instead of answering him with words, Mycroft reached for the lube, spreading it along his fingers before running them over the man’s entrance. Catching Gregory’s gaze, he slowly pushed in the first finger to brush lightly over that sweet spot. Electricity ran through him as he watched the man buck against his touch, a strangled noise escaping his lips as he no doubt felt pleasure course through his body. 

“My moon and stars, you are so tight, so hot. I cannot wait till you are wrapped around me, so perfect,” Mycroft gasped, pressing light kisses to the other’s lips. 

“Only and ever yours, my sun, my love.” Taking longer than absolutely necessary, Mycroft waited till the other was practically begging for him for more to slip in another finger, lightly dancing over that spot as he dipped down and sucked on the man’s nipples. The noises Gregory made were intoxicating and anything he could do to illicit them, he would. 

“My heart, my love, my life,” He whispered reverently between kisses, slipping in a third finger and drawing it out, waiting for Gregory to break before he would give in and take him. 

“More… more please, Mycroft… my death will be at your hands if you keep teasing me along like this…” 

“Mmm, we wouldn’t want that, now would we?” Purring, Mycroft pressed once more against Gregory’s prostate before pulling out, sitting up and pouring more of the lube onto his hands. Taking himself in hand, he slicked his cock up, shivering at the touch and gasping as his eyes rolled back, the sensation almost too much. “Love, roll to your side please, I want to try something different this time,” Lining up behind Gregory, like they were going to spoon, he reached down and lifted the man’s leg a tad, allowing him enough room to press his prick against the other’s entrance. The feeling of his chest against the other’s back, his one arm wrapped around the man's waist, it was bliss as he pushed in slowly, a moan ripping from his chest with the tight heat that surrounded him now. 

“Mycroft,” Gregory breathed, his hand shaky as it covered his own. “I love you, My. I love you, just like this…” Holding tighter to the other, and pressing his forehead against the back of the man’s neck, he gasped as his breathing grew more ragged by the minute. 

“Amica mae…”  _ My love…  _ Mycroft gasped, waiting till the other gave him a signal before pulling out, slowly letting himself slide back in, his eyes rolling back as the heat surrounded him once more. “Lunam et stellas meus tibi me semper.”  _ My moon and stars, you have me, always.  _ It was a slow pace, rocking in and out, the slide tantalising and maddening at the same time as he felt the other start to shake, trying to rock back against him, desperate for more. As his resolve disappeared, his pace quickened, moving faster and harder, his hand moving from around the other’s chest, to reaching down and wrapping around Gregory’s weeping prick, tugging in time with his movements. 

“Mycroft, God,” He knew Gregory was close when he gasped his name, a smirk curving on his lips as he twisted his wrist, brushing over the head with his thumb and biting down on the man’s shoulder to push him over the edge. Those cries were music to his ears, continuing to work the other over as he changed to quick, short thrusts, chasing after his own pleasure as his breathing turned ragged. 

“Gregory, my love, my heart, my moon and stars,” Mycroft could feel himself right on the edge, his hand grasping tight to the other, his nose pressed against the crook of the man’s neck. “Stay with me my love, never leave, please, stay with me, always.” 

“Never again, My. I’ll never leave you again. Come for me, My, let me feel it. My sun, my life, I love you. Just like that, My. Come for me…” It hit him harder than he had ever felt before, crashing over him in waves, slamming down, his vision going white as he thrust in one last time, screaming out the other’s name. Normally, the first time back with his lover was always intense, always different because it was a different body, new things to learn, but this… this was intense for reasons far different from those. 

"Amica mea, suavis et ... numquam dimittet vos. Mecum eris in perpetuum. Non ego hoc ecce recedes a me, et prohibere, Obsecro, lunam et stellas, commodo ..."  _ My love, my dearest... I'll never let you go. You will be by my side, forever. I won't let you leave me this time, I will stop this, please, my moon and stars, please…  _ Mycroft whispered against the other’s skin, still coming down from his high as he wrapped himself around the other, his chest rising and falling quickly, his skin still on fire. Gregory moved after a few minutes, turning to face him as he pulled a sheet over them, tangling their legs together. 

“I love you. The two of us, always and forever.” 

“Always.” Mycroft smiled, pressing into those soft kisses, happier than he had been in months, and quite possible, since he first met the other.  __

*****

Cleaning up the dishes from dinner, Mycroft washed and Greg dried, a routine they had worked out a long time ago that they now followed without thinking. 

“I think I’d like to take a walk along the beach tonight, what do you think my love? The sun is setting and the weather is beautiful. I won’t have to wear five layers of protection either.” Greg did his best to keep from laughing at Mycroft’s inability to tan, personally loving his freckles but understanding that he hated them… though sometimes playing connect the dots with his tongue along the man’s shoulder and neck did tend to win him over when he was feeling overly self conscious.

“Sounds great to me, but you know how I love the beach,” He said with a grin, having gone down a few times just by himself to collect shells or go for a quick dip in the surf. Happy to ignore how overly romantic the idea was of walking along at sunset, Greg finished the last of the dishes before going to change into some shorts and a shirt he wouldn’t mind getting wet if he did decide to jump into a wave or two. Holding his hand out for Mycroft to take, he smiled at the other as they headed for the door. 

“As long as you don’t try and drag me into the waves with you again.” It felt nice, feeling the soft sand between his toes as they walked along the shore, the water rushing over their skin as the waves came to shore. “We should come here more often. I had only used this as my escape when I lost you, but having you here with me is far better.” 

“I guess you brought me here once before, since I can remember the view from here,” Greg mused as they walked along, kicking his feet along the edge of waves just before they receded back into the ocean, still very much wanting to pull Mycroft into the water but deciding he would behave for now. It was a treat to be able to walk along the shore with him, so he wouldn’t ruin it. “But it would be great to come on holiday here, and the domus in Rome.. and your flat in Nice. Just bounce between those and it would be fantastic,” He chuckled, swinging their joined hands slightly between them with a smile. 

“Our flat, dearest. What’s mine is yours. The townhome, the flat in Nice, the domus, the home here, all of it.” Mycroft said softly, giving his hand a squeeze. Greg rolled his eyes as Mycroft corrected him about calling all the houses his and not theirs, but in his mind it was more or less all the same, and still very much Mycroft’s. He didn’t have any memories from living in them, and outside of the townhouse in London, they didn’t really have any of his touches either. Of course, he didn’t blame Mycroft, sure that he wouldn't be able to stomach having memories of someone after they passed and certainly knowing what it was like to try and scrub the memories of Caroline out of his old flat in order to turn it into a safe house. “Gregory…” Looking back up at the other when he said his name, Greg slowed them to a stop before turning to face him directly, taking both of his hands into his with a gentle smile, biting back the urge to laugh at how obnoxiously sliche the moment was between them. 

“Yeah?” 

“I’m not quite sure how to go about this, as I have been trying to be conscious about us this time. I don’t want to pressure you, or put you through any more stress than I already have, but…” Mycroft sighed, finally looking up at him. “Well, now that you are… free, so to speak, it would mean the world to me, I mean, I would love it if we could…” Greg couldn’t help it as he found his smile shifting into an earsplitting grin, and a good natured laugh as he pulled Mycroft in to kiss him, wrapping his arms lazily around the man’s waist to hold him close. 

“My answer is yes, but I still want to hear you say it.” He said, finding it sweet that after so many times together, Mycroft was still so nervous over the thought of proposing to him. Greg didn’t even question how calm he felt over it all, not that he wasn’t excited for it, but… he faltered slightly as he moved to slide his hands from behind Mycroft, to his side, his fingers running over his old wedding band that he had simply been too lazy to get rid of. It was simple and worn, and Greg had seen it for so long as a sign of devotion towards the man currently in front of him, rather than Caroline, but if they were really going to do this, he was going to do it right. Taking a small step back, Greg worked the ring off his hand before bouncing it a few times in his palm, trying to figure out just what to do with it before reeling back and throwing the band as hard as he could into the ocean. “I’m yours. No one else’s. But I really do still want to hear you say it.” 

“Should I get down on one knee as well, or do you just want to hear the words?” Mycroft teased, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “I mean, this isn’t as nice as I have done it before, nothing elaborate, and I don’t even have your ring with me… it’s back at the townhouse…” Greg rolled his eyes  as he relaxed back into Mycroft’s arms, returning the kiss happily before speaking. 

“At this point, I’m just going to start pulling us closer to the waves if you keep dragging this out.” He grinned in turn, looking down at his now bare hand when he mentioned not having his ring, grimacing slightly at the clear tan line screaming back at him across his finger. “Think that’ll work for us now?” Greg asked as he lifted his hand to show Mycroft, laughing again as he saw the crinkle in the man’s nose. “I haven’t really needed elaborate this time around, don’t you think? I think this way is very much us.” 

“Well, then, in that case, and as I do not wish to be dragged into the water,” Greg laughed softly as he nodded, squeezing Mycroft’s hand in his as he found his chest and throat tightening when the man went down on one knee, even though he had just been teasing him about proposing. “Gregory Lestrade, will you be my husband once more?” Nodding a little more, Greg barely forced out a yes before tugging for the other to stand again, wrapping him in a tight hug as he buried his face into Mycroft’s neck. 

“Yes,” He repeated again, coughing another laugh as he moved to kiss him, a bit more rough as he held on. “I love you. I love you, so very much.” 

“I love you as well, my heart. More than I could ever say. I have loved you from the day I met you, knowing from the start that you would be the one I would be finding, life after life. I knew you were the man I was destined to be with.” 

“How am I this much of a mess when I knew what you were going to say?” Greg asked as felt a few tears starting to well up as he listened to Mycroft, stepping back just enough to wipe at his eyes before taking Mycroft’s hand in his and starting back towards their home, the sun just starting to dip below the horizon. “Come on, my brilliant man, my husband. I vote we celebrate then have a nice shower before we turn in for the night.” 

*****

Greg shook his head as he pulled his carryon off the rack above his seat on the train, the hills of Scotland still passing by through the windows but his stop was coming up shortly. Of course after he and Mycroft had returned from their holiday Sherlock had to go right back at it in his normal dramatic fashion, this time apparently breaking into a top secret military science base. The only reason he had heard of Baskerville before was because Mycroft had mentioned it in passing as he and Greg had been talking about their future family together, the science involved and who they would trust to handle their genetic material with the potential of being found out as immortals. Even though Greg wasn’t yet, to his ever growing frustration as little whispers of memories continued to add themselves into the DI’s brain, it wasn’t enough just yet, but it still felt nice to talk about their future together again. Now apparently he had been given the chance to check out the facility himself, as well as make sure that Sherlock didn’t blow anything up. Making his way to the Inn that Mycroft had told him that John and Sherlock were staying in, Greg was glad that he was easily able to get a room and a pint, pocketing the key and just about to take a sip from his drink as he heard the exact man he had been sent to find cry out in exasperation behind him.

“What the hell are  _ you _ doing here?” Sherlock snapped, and it took everything in Greg’s power not to laugh in the man’s face at the impressive glare he was receiving in return.

“Well, nice to see you too! I’m on holiday, would you believe?” He answered easily, sticking with the horribly flimsy excuse Mycroft had sent him off with on this task for him. It wasn’t a complete lie though, he was still supposed to be on holiday for a few more days.

“No, I wouldn’t.” Sherlock huffed, though at least John was kind enough to grant him an honest greeting.

“I heard you were in the area. What are you up to? You after this Hound of Hell like on the telly?” Greg continued to tease Sherlock, deciding that if he was going to be out here with the man in that kind of mood he would have some fun with it.

“I’m waiting for an explanation, Inspector. Why are you here?”

“I’ve told you: I’m on holiday.”

“You’re brown as a nut. You’re clearly just  _ back _ from your ‘holidays’.”

Greg glanced down at his arms, having to admit he had picked up a rather nice tan while away. “Yeah, well I fancied another one.”

“Oh, this is Mycroft, isn’t it?” Sherlock snapped, Greg rolling his eyes as he tried to figure out exactly what he was allowed to say about why he had come to watch over them without blowing about five different levels of clearance.

“No, look,”

“Of course it is! One mention of Baskerville and he sends down my handler to – to spy on me incognito. Is that why you’re calling yourself Greg?”

There was an awkward beat of silence between the three of them as Greg and John tried to figure out if Sherlock was being sarcastic or not. The look of glee on his face that he had figured out his brother’s game told them maybe not. “That’s his name.” John pointed out, looking equally as annoyed as Greg did.

“Is it?”

“Yes! If you’d ever bothered to find out.” It’s been my name forever, you bastard. “Look, I’m not your handler, and I don’t just do what your brother tells me.” Greg defended himself, picking up his pint from the bar and about to make his way when John spoke up.

“Actually, you could be just the man we want.”

“Why?” Sherlock sulked, annoyed now that he had been able to dismiss Lestrade that they apparently were about to be required to spend more time around one another.

“Well, I’ve not been idle, Sherlock. I think I might have found something.” John explained as he pulled out a few receipts and invoices from the front desk. “Here. Didn’t know if it was relevant; starting to look like it might be. That is an awful lot of meat for a vegetarian restaurant.”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow as he glanced over the receipts, his mind starting to race over just what exactly they were working so hard to hide. “Excellent.”

“Nice scary inspector from Scotland Yard who can put in a few calls might come in very handy.” John added, looking to Greg who could only glance between the two men with a slight shrug as the doctor slapped the bell to call for the manager to come help them. 

*****

It had been longer than he had expected since he had heard from Gregory, but there hadn’t been a call to say that something bad had happened, so he just had to trust that his partner would get in contact as soon as he could. Sitting at his desk, Mycroft continued to work on the paperwork for Richard, or in this case, Moriarty as all knew him. They had taken him into custody and he knew that it was going to be difficult to keep him there. As much as he would just love to have the man locked away, the problem would be that he was immortal, and after years of staying in that cell, people would start to question why he didn’t age. He already had a team waiting at the helicopter pad to take him to the prison, which was not something he was looking forward to. Sighing, Mycroft filed away the last of the paperwork, just as his mobile went off, his eyes quickly darting to the screen to see that Gregory was calling him. 

“Hello my heart, I was starting to wonder when I would hear from you. I trust things are well, and that you have them under control as I haven’t received word otherwise?” 

“Well, mostly, yes. Sherlock saw right through that excuse you gave me like I knew he would. I don’t know what’s going on with this case they’re on, but the poor Henry lad that called Sherlock, he’s bad off, My. I know you said this place was the best research facility, but it gives me the creeps, and I really don’t like the idea of them being who we turn to for our baby. I don’t know… I don’t like the idea of our little one coming from a military facility. She’s not an experiment, she’s ours, you know? Anyway, besides Sherlock nicking your security card, how’s London behaving herself for you?” 

“Then we won’t go to them for our child. You are right, she’s not an experiment, and shouldn’t be treated as one.” He hadn’t been fully aware of what went on at Baskerville, only that they were a top research facility that did work with genetics, and hence why he thought it would be a good place to go. If Gregory didn’t feel right about it though, they would find somewhere else. His lips curved into a smile as the man kept mentioning the child as a little girl, even though they both knew there was no certainty with that. “Well, we caught Richard. He is in custody, but I’m not sure how long that will stay the case.” Mycroft sighed, frowning as he looked down at his desk. “He’s immortal, Gregory, and people  _ will  _ notice if he doesn’t age and we have him locked up for life.” 

“Well… he can’t be the only immortal criminal out there. What’s usually done in these sorts of situations? I mean… I don’t know, there has to be some sort of crazy high secret government facility that you can hold him at or something. Sorry, love. I don’t know what else to say… dammit, hold on, My, Sherlock’s calling me.” What usually happened was that the immortal was dealt with, disposed of, as it  _ wasn’t  _ something that occurred within their community very often. Actually, it had only happened once or twice throughout history, as there weren’t very many of them. Though, coming into a more modern age, it was harder to have someone just disappear. When Gregory told him Sherlock was calling, he let out a sigh, but he waited, locking up and grabbing his jacket, knowing he was going to have to head out to meet with Richard soon, though when his partner came back and sounded worried, he paused and frowned. “I’ve got to go. Something’s happening at Dewer’s Hollow and he needs me there now. Love you.” 

“Gregory, wait, what’s happening? Is everything alright?” He questioned, but before he got an answer, the other hung up. Pocketing the device, he made his way to the roof, looking to the team waiting for him. “Plans have changed gentlemen. I need you to take me to Baskerville.” 


	40. XXXIX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! Sorry this was late this week, I had my bachelorette party and didn't get home till just now! Thanks for being patient! But I hope this chapter makes up for it!!!

          “Sherlock!” Greg called as he had finally found his way to Dewer’s Hollow, sliding awkwardly down the side of the hill to where everyone else was, holding his gun in one hand and his torch in the other, watching John try to coax Henry to drop the gun he was holding.

          “But we saw it: the hound, last night. We s... we, we, we  _ did _ , we saw...” Henry nearly pleaded with Sherlock as he looked around from where he was on the ground, Greg coughing slightly from the fog that filled the hollow and was beginning to burn the back of his throat. There was something not right about it, but Greg shrugged it off to just coming from his hatred for anything that reminded him of being surrounded by smoke ever since he had remembered being in the London Fire.

          “Yes, but there  _ was _ a dog, Henry, leaving footprints, scaring witnesses, but it was nothing more than an ordinary dog. We both saw it – saw it as our drugged minds wanted us to see it. Fear and stimulus; that’s how it works.” Sherlock explained, seemingly far more gentle than he normally was with witnesses, though now and again he was genuinely kind to those who didn’t deserve what had been thrust onto them. “But there never was any monster.”

          Just then there was a horrible howl from above them, John quickly joining Greg’s side as they both tried to figure out just what on earth was happening. There was very much a dog, a wolf, a hound stalking up above them, and even as John and Sherlock did what they could to try and calm Henry as he began to panic again, nothing getting through to him.

 

_           It was a new game from the Emperor, they had said as Gregori had gotten ready. A hound specially bred just to fight. _

 

          “Shit!” Greg hissed as he shook his head, blinking a few times to try and get himself back into this reality as the Hound’s eyes gleamed red in the torchlight.

_           “ _ Greg, are you seeing this?” John asked in disbelief, Greg glancing back at him only for a moment which was all it took for them to realize that they were all seeing the same thing.

 

_           They had hoped it would be along with them. They were wrong. _

 

          “Oh my  _ God. _ ” Greg breathed, stumbling back as he gasped for air as it came down towards him. _ “ _ Oh, Christ!”

 

_           It had only taken three strides before the creature was on his chest, the flat of Gregori’s sword the only thing between its teeth and his throat as he struggled to hold it back. _

 

          “It’s the fog! The drug: it’s in the fog! Aerosol dispersal – that’s what it said in those records. Project HOUND – it’s the fog! A chemical minefield!” Sherlock yelled, Greg covering his mouth with his arm and praying it would be enough to stop him from inhaling any more than he already had. Someone was yelling for them to kill the creature, and while he normally wouldn’t be one to do such, watching it pace and get ready to launch some sort of attack on them only gave Greg and John so much leeway. Greg’s hands were shaking too much to do any good as he tried to ward the hound away, but John’s aim was better than his as it cried out from where it was struck, Sherlock pushing for Henry to go and look and see that it was just a dog, nothing more.

 

_           It took nearly cutting the hound’s heart out of his body before it finally stopped its attack. _

 

          “It’s just ... You bastard. You  _ bastard! _ ” Henry started to yell as he lunged onto the scientist, where he had come from Greg had no idea, but he didn’t know what was happening with his head at the moment either.  _ “ _ Twenty years! Twenty years of my life making no sense! Why didn’t you just kill me?!” He pleaded, Greg and John finally getting a hold of his arms enough to pull him off the other and steady him on his feet again.

_           “ _ Because dead men get listened to. He needed to do more than kill you. He had to discredit every word you ever said about your father, and he had the means right at his feet – a chemical minefield; pressure pads in the ground dosing you up every time that you came back here.” Sherlock explained, looking around the Hollow with that smile that never meant anything good. “Murder weapon and scene of the crime all at once. Oh, this case, Henry! Thank you. It’s been brilliant.”

_           “That thing is a monster.” _

_           “I know, isn’t it brilliant?” _

          “Not good?” Sherlock was looking over to John as Henry calmed himself again, still watching the scientist as he slowly got up again.

          “No, no, it’s – it’s okay. It’s fine, because this means ... this means that my dad was  _ right.  _ He found something out, didn’t he, and that’s why you’d killed him – because he was  _ right _ , and he’d found you right in the middle of an experiment.” Henry challenged, though they were all interrupted when the damned hound wasn’t as dead as they had hoped, snarling and struggling to his feet again.

 

_           A scream was wetly cut off as its teeth sunk into the other man’s neck. _

 

_           “ _ Frankland!” Sherlock yelled as the scientist took off, Greg’s ear’s ringing as he realized with a slight delay that John had shot the thing again before the scientist had started to run. Waving for Henry to come with them, Greg took off shortly after, urging him to keep up as they wove through the forest, coming to a fence that Frankland had already jumped and gotten a few yards into before freezing. A moment later there was an explosion, the group sliding to a halt as they all ducked down to protect themselves, taking a moment to look towards one another before trying to decide what to do next.

*****

          It didn’t take long to arrive at the hotel where he knew Gregory was staying, and as he wasn’t certain where the in the hollow they would be, or if it was safe, or if he would make it worse, Mycroft decided to wait in the lobby, pacing back and forth to the irritation of the owners. Every time someone would enter, his eyes would snap up, looking to see if it was his partner, a frown creasing his forehead when it wasn’t. After a few hours, Gregory finally came through those doors, their eyes locking and the man walking straight to him and wrapping him in a tight hug. He didn’t care that anyone was watching, and moved to hold the other tight as well, closing his eyes as he felt the man safe in his arms. 

          “You scared me my love,” Mycroft whispered, pressing a kiss to the man’s temple. 

          “Ti amo, ma non sono mai di fare una cosa del genere di nuovo.”  _ I love you, but I’m never doing anything like that again.  _ When the other started talking in Italian, it took him a few seconds to realise that it wasn’t English, the man looking just as confused as he was. 

          “Gregory?” Holding tight to the man’s shoulders, he looked down to the other, Gregory stepping back and shaking his head, holding a hand to it as pain spread across his features. Next was German, and he was on about his head, but there was still that look of confusion on his lovers face, the man starting to sway. “Gregory, my heart, what’s happening? Please talk to me,” That was when he saw it, the trail of blood running from the man’s nose, and the realisation from the other of what was happening. It was one of those strong memories, triggered by something, but he wasn’t quite sure what as neither of them had been to Baskerville together before. Somewhere in the background, Mycroft could hear John shouting to catch him, and it took but a split second to register it, rushing towards the other and wrapping him in his arms, falling to the floor with him and hitting his knees hard. The pain didn’t even register as he was too worried about Gregory who was now blacked out in his arms, his body shaking bad. The doctors had said they thought he was having seizures, but he hadn’t fully believed them until now. “John, please, help him,” Looking up at the other, he pleaded with the man, knowing that it would take at least ten minutes before any of his team could show up to get him to the helicopter. “Sherlock, call the team, I beg you, he needs to go to a hospital,” Mycroft looked back down at his lover, his heart tight as he looked to the man in his arms. 

          “A hospital won’t be able to do anything for him,” John explained as he knelt down beside him. He didn’t want to let go, but he knew he had to let the good doctor help him, letting Gregory go into the care of the man in front of him, Sherlock’s hand now resting on his shoulder. “It was less than a minute and he didn’t hurt himself in it. The nosebleed was just a precursor to it. Greg, mate, you’ve had a seizure. We’re going to take you to your room, you need to rest right now, okay? Sherlock, take his arms.” Mycroft followed close behind as they carried his partner to the bedroom, setting him down and bringing the blankets over him, Sherlock stepping out to speak with his team. “It’s going to take him a while to recover from this, but he’s going to be alright. He’ll be lethargic and disoriented, but that’s all normal. Just be patient and do your best to stay calm. We’ll stay close, but give you your privacy. Call if you need us.” 

          “Thank you John, it means a lot. I don’t know what I would do if something happened to him…” He trailed off, moving to the man’s side and taking his hand, sitting on the side of the bed. “Gregory, my love, it’s alright, I’m right here. We are going to get you back home, just rest. You had a really bad attack, I’m assuming a very powerful memory, but John looked you over and said you will be okay.” Reaching up, Mycroft brushed the man’s hair out of his face, cupping his cheek and smiling down at the other, just trying to comfort him as he seemed to come to, confusion clouding his face. 

          “Antequam obviam profectus est cum gladiator quem educatus erat canis ad nos. Erat daemonium creaturae.”  _ Before we met, when I had just started as a Gladiator, there was a hound they had bred to fight us. It was a demon of a creature.  _ That was perfect Latin, original Roman accent and all, which was something he had not heard in a very long time, at least, not coming from Gregory. The content of his words was irrelevant, compared to hearing his lover speak in his beloved tongue, but also because the man was confused as to how this was happening. “I’m trying ut nunc loquuntur.”  _ I’m trying to speak English right now.  _ “Wie halten du deine languages straight?”  _ How do you keep your languages straight?  _ “Vous savez quoi?”  _ You know what?  _ “Fuck it… Oh, sure, that exeat right. You intelligere more languages that I connaître, I’ll just reden und du will figure it out.”  _ Fuck it… Oh sure, that comes out right. You know more languages than I know, I’ll just talk and you will figure it out.  _ It kept changing though, from German, French… and back to others again, shifting through them mid sentence, English in there as well. Frowning, he looked to the other, taking a bit to understand what Gregory was saying, but he managed. 

          “Gregory, what was the memory?” He questioned, holding tight to the other as the man wrapped himself around him. “Was it the hound from the gladiator fights, is that what caused the attack?” It still didn’t explain why Gregory was speaking in so many different languages at once, but he had been speaking random sentences in others before, only just for brief periods of time though. 

          “Das… The hound was at the… the Hollow.” Gregory spoke slowly, almost as if he struggled to stay in one language. “It felt like… like a tornado. When we got back, there was something in the fog. It feels like there’s too much in my head right now.” Looking to the door when he heard Sherlock knock, Mycroft gave him a small smile as thanks. 

          “Helicopter’s outside to take you and Lestrade home.” 

          “My, Je suis épuisé. Pouvons-nous attendre jusqu'au matin?”  _ My, I’m exhausted, can we wait until morning?  _ Turning his attention back to Gregory as the man tried to sit up, he could tell that the man was in no shape to travel, no matter how much he wanted to take him home and get out of this place. Letting out a sigh, he stood, leaning to place a kiss on the man’s forehead before walking over to where Sherlock stood waiting. 

          “I’m sorry brother. Would you tell them that we are planning on staying till morning, and then we will leave? I don’t think he’s ready to travel just yet.” His voice was soft as he looked to Sherlock, his brother giving him a curt nod and leaving, Mycroft closing the door behind him and taking his seat back in the bed. “If it wasn’t the memory of the hound, then what caused the attack here in the hotel?” He was still confused as to what had happened to the other, more concerned than anything that the man seemed completely out of it and dazed. 

          “I don’t… I don’t know. I’m sorry everything has to change for me. Just… everything was a blur. I’m tired. I know the bed is small, but stay with me. Please.” 

          “It’s fine love,” Leaning in, he placed a gentle kiss on the man’s head before standing and slipping out of his shoes, jacket and waistcoat, leaving only his trousers and a button up. Slipping into bed with the other, Mycroft wrapped himself around the man, pressing up against his back as he brushed his nose against the back of Gregory’s neck. “Sleep love, I’m here.” 

 

          He didn’t sleep well, and never did when he was not in his own bed, but at least being next to Gregory allowed him to doze for a few hours. The light filtered through the curtains in the morning, Mycroft scrunching his eyes as he stretched, his back aching from sleeping on less than a decent mattress. 

          “I am going to need a massage after this, damn mattress put knots in my back,” Rolling over, he wrapped his arms back around Gregory, knowing that the other was awake by his breathing. 

          “You always tried to convince me to try sardines. I always hated them. Every time. Sardines and olives. Never once.” His features pulled into a frown at the odd comment, wondering what the other was on about now. 

          “Yes, and I finally got you to try them this life, and I was right. You did like them, at least the sardines.” Mycroft mumbled, pressing his forehead into the man’s shoulder. 

          “You would eat them as a snack, though. Always would, and I still say that is gross,” Gregory chuckled, brushing his fingers over Mycroft’s arms and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “I don’t know. I just… I think it's funny how some things never change. I think I might be my own cousin in there somewhere. I’m pretty sure you’re stuck with me now, for what it’s worth.” His frown only deepened when the other mentioned being his own cousin, groaning as he had far too little sleep and far too much stress to be solving whatever riddles Gregory was deciding to pose him this morning. When the other lifted his chin, Mycroft blinked his eyes open, adjusting to the light and giving the man a soft smile. 

          “I am aware, Gregory.” He chuckled, not sure why the man was in such a good mood, but it was certainly an improvement over last night. “Always, correct? No matter how many tries it takes, I’ll always have you.” Leaning up, he pressed a soft kiss to the man’s lips, humming in contentment as he moved to hold the other close. 

          “I think twelfth time’s the charm, love. My silly, brilliant man. I love you. Always.” 

          “Our prospects do seem good this time around, and everyone has mentioned they think this is the end. Your memories are getting stronger, especially if last night was anything to go by, but love… don’t do anything like that again. You scared me half to death,” It wasn’t an odd conversation to have, especially since they had made up after a year of being apart, telling one another that this would be the end, this had to be the last time around. “I love you as well, my heart. What has gotten into you this morning? Don’t get me wrong, I am not complaining, but you are very… lovey this morning. Has all that fog from last night gone to your head?” Mycroft chuckled, laying his head back down on the pillow, looking to those beautiful, chocolate eyes and that heart stopping smile in front of him.   

          “Memoro.”  _ I remember.  _ Mycroft’s smile faded as he listened to the other speaking Latin, it finally clicking what Gregory had been trying to tell him. Every time he had imagined this moment, it had been so obvious that his partner finally remembered, like he was able to tell just by looking at the other, and there was smiles and embracing, but this was completely different. His heart was roaring in his ears and he felt frozen in place as he looked to the other, eyes wide. 

          “Certus es, anima mae?”  _ Are you certain, my heart?  _ Mycroft knew that Gregory would never joke about something like this, but he found it hard to believe that it was finally here, that this day had come and that the wait was over. Gregory simply grinned and nodded, leaning over to kiss him again and hold him close. 

          “Meum sol, I love you. I love you, my sun. My darling.” It finally settled with him when Gregory pressed a deep kiss to his lips, whispering that beloved name. 

          “Et luna, et stellis meum,” Tears rolled down his cheek, his chest feeling tight and full, as if it were to burst, a smile creeping up on his features. “Gregory,” Wrapping his arms around the man’s shoulders, Mycroft held him close, wanting to laugh, shout, cry and possibly even jump up on the bed, energy and fire coursing through his body. He still couldn’t believe it, though he knew it was true, it still didn’t feel real, like he would wake from a dream. “I love you so, my heart, my life, and my soul,” Moving to pin the other under him, he pressed quick kisses over the other’s cheeks, on his nose, over his jaw and finally on his lips, quick movements as the energy built up in his bones.  

          “When we get home, My, you’ll have me there. I’d rather not test out how quickly I’ll heal now from breaking this excuse of a cot between the two of us.” Mycroft rolled his eyes, letting out a small huff as he looked to the other. “I feel like this is one of those things we should call Anthea and your parents about, a bit like when you’re engaged and you call around to tell everyone. I’m sure Ryan and Anthea will be ecstatic. Sherlock will probably feign indifference, but I’m sure he’ll be happy for you. Eventually.” 

          “We can have them all over for dinner later, right now, I want to celebrate and keep you all to myself,” Standing quickly from the bed, he shot off a few messages, his team responding immediately. Putting his shoes, jacket and waistcoat back on, he looked back to the other who was still in bed. “Gregory, as happy as I am right now, if you don’t move, I will have the team come in and force you into that helicopter.” Mycroft hadn’t felt this energetic in years, or filled with this much electricity that he felt he could send a shock to anything he touched. While he waited for his partner to pack his belongings, he sent out a few messages to his family and Anthea, telling them all to meet at the town home for a very important announcement over dinner tonight. 

          “Home? We should let John and Sherlock know we’re leaving, too. No doubt John will want to know that I am doing better today.” 

          “Already taken care of love, while you were taking your sweet time,” Mycroft teased, leaning in and placing a quick kiss on the man’s cheek before they left the room, Gregory leaving the key with the owners at the desk before they walked outside to the car. “I told everyone to meet us at the townhouse at five for dinner and we can tell everyone the news at once. Obviously, John will not be there, but if you wish to text him and tell him that you are doing alright, by all means,” Slipping into the back of the car, it didn’t take long to reach the helipad, the team handing them protective headsets for the ride, Mycroft climbing in after Gregory and placing a hand on the man’s thigh as he sat, waiting for them to be clear for takeoff. 

*****

          Greg nodded and sent out a few short texts to John as they made their way to the helicopter, thanking him for taking care of him the night before and assuring him that he would take it easy and check in with his normal doctor as well. Holding tight to Mycroft’s hand as the helicopter took off, Greg swallowed back a surprised yelp as they lifted up from the ground before starting for London. The view of the city was amazing from the air, but while Greg felt completely relaxed in a standard airplane, he wasn’t too sure about the way they were flying now. He only relaxed again once they had landed and were given the signal that they could safely get out too. Nodding once to Mycroft’s driver as they climbed in, Greg sighed heavily as he half slid down into the chair, grinning over at his lover as they started back towards their town home. 

          “It’s weird, remembering so much now. It feels… big. You know that feeling when you walk into a large room? It’s almost like that. I know I’ll get used to it, same as the languages. I still feel like I’m about to start talking in something different every time I open my mouth.” 

          “I can imagine that it is a lot. I have had centuries to adjust to all that I remember, and to master the languages. I can only start to wonder how it would be to have it all thrust on me at once.” Greg huffed a laugh as he shook his head, grunting a loud complaint when they happened to hit a bump in the road that nearly bounced him onto the floor because he had slumped so low in his seat. 

          “That was just dumb… help me, I’m stuck,” He laughed, letting Mycroft haul him back into his seat and sliding close to him, slipping under one of the politician’s arms to lean against his chest. “Too bad it doesn’t make me any smarter, but I’m sure you’ll be happy to help me master what I remember now. I already know you have a hell of a language kink, even when I speak to you in French,” Greg teased, kissing up his jaw and ever so slightly tugging at one of his earlobes with his teeth.

          “I haven’t the faintest as to what you are talking about my sweet. If I had to choose though, I would still say that Latin would have me wrapped around your finger. I will deny it if you say anything.” Mycroft chuckled, the noise being cut off as he teased him, kissing up his jaw and ever so slightly tugging at one of his earlobes with his teeth.

          “We’ll still have a bit of time before everyone’s to arrive for the news, I think we can arrange a celebration of our own, don’t you think?” 

          “I’m sure you can remember centuries worth of us celebrating now, am I right?” Mycroft pressed his cheek against his own, a free hand trailing down Greg’s chest and dancing lightly over his growing arousal.

          “The one I keep think of right now was when I bred horses while living in Germany. I took you more than once in the loft surrounded by hay and horse blankets.” Greg smirked, trying to play cool but his hips betrayed him as he shifted into the man’s touch. “I know the bathhouse is one of your favourites, though I knew that before seeing as you went through such detail to recreate it with me. I didn’t realise though, that I was wrong about how to dominate you. It’s not force against your body, as much as it is turning off your mind and turning you into putty in my hand, isn’t it?” Greg asked, dropping his voice to barely a whisper as they pulled up in front of the townhouse, tapping his finger once on the center of the man’s chest before doing his best to adjust himself and climbing out of the car to get his things. He knew full well that he could easily continue on with this little game he had started with Mycroft, and no doubt the two of them wouldn’t be leaving their bed any earlier than absolutely necessary to meet with their loved ones to tell them the good news, but the moment that Greg had stepped into the house, a thought had come to him. He knew that there was a favourite book of Mycroft’s from the Library of Alexandria, and he had memories of sitting with the man beside the fire in the evenings as he read to him, but he couldn’t remember the details of the story now as much as just the action. Venturing into Mycroft’s office, it didn’t take much time to find the ancient book , and he opened it excitedly only to grunt in frustration. “Intelligo te mihi in sermonibus tuis. Quare non possum lengere?”  _ I understand when you speak to me, why can’t I read it?  _ Greg asked as he heard his lover join him in the doorway, gingerly turning the pages of the book though the letters on the page still stared up at him the same way they had the first time Mycroft had shown him the little treasure. 

          “Amica mea,” Mycroft walked over, placing his hands on his shoulders and looking down at the book. “You couldn’t read… only scholars and families of nobility were taught. That was why I always read to you.” 

          “Oh,” Greg breathed, his shoulders slouching under the man’s touch, though he knew there was no malice in the fact that he had never been taught to read. He had never had the need to, simply giving a rough ‘X’ whenever it was necessary for him to write up something and having Mycroft around the handle anything more detailed, should it ever come up. Mycroft had always enjoyed reading to him anyway, sharing his books in a way that they could both enjoy it together, neither of them seeing it as something that needed to be corrected. “Will you teach me? How to read Latin that is,” He asked, closing the book and putting it back on the shelf before resting his hands on Mycroft’s hips in turn. “We certainly don’t need to worry about running out of time to practice, and I already know the letters, it’s just learning the words right?” 

          “Quid pro dilectione mea,”  _ Anything for you, my love.  _ “Now, unless you wish to start lessons right now, I do believe you said something about celebrating? I know it’s only nearing noon, but we wouldn’t want any interruptions,” Greg’s soft laugh at Mycroft’s teasing was quickly cut off by the feeling of the man’s mouth against his neck, leaning into the touch with a needy moan before the warmth was gone. “Come, my moon. Take me to bed.” Half glaring at the man but knowing full well it was a lost cause, Greg took his hand before leading the way up to their bedroom, easily moving to walk Mycroft back with his hand against the other’s chest, forcing him to sit down on the bed. 

          “I remember that first time, you were so anxious to make everything perfect for me, as if you were to make one wrong move and I would leave you. As if I hadn’t been fantasising of taking you in the shadows of the alley leading to your domus, of sliding my hand under your toga and pleasuring you while you sat surrounded by others in the court, speaking for your family and myself.” Greg whispered, settling himself to straddle Mycroft’s waist as he slowly picked at the know of his tie. “How each life I would burn with jealousy of whomever your partner had been before, who had taught you all of your tricks and had shared your bed, not realising it had always been me.” A groan slipped from Mycroft’s throat as he spoke, the man’s pupils dilated and hungry. 

          “Gregory,” It was just a whisper, a plea, as his partner held his hips, closing his eyes and surrendering to his touch. “It was always you, never another. I never had eyes for anyone else. I thought I was going to be the immortal who never found a partner, as I thought I didn’t need one, but when I saw you with Sherlock, I was lost from that moment on to you.” Greg smiled as he slid Mycroft’s tie off from around his neck, wrapping it around his hand to keep it neat before setting it to the side and slowly undoing each of the buttons to the man’s waistcoat. 

          “Thank the gods that Sherlock was the age he was when we met, or he would have been too proud to come up and ask for help,” He chuckled, having watched Sherlock grow while Mycroft had already been a young adult when they had met. Of course, there had been little reason to question that back then, but now he would have a hard time ignoring such a wide age gap between siblings. “When we met in Venice the first time, and you took me on an adventure to a new world by showing me Paris, I had no idea what was happening, but I had you, and taking you quickly in the little flat we shared… I never cared if anyone else heard, because I couldn’t understand them even if they complained,” Greg laughed, lazily pushing the vest off onto the bed and leaning down to nip at Mycroft’s neck. “I knew they did though, the way you would blush, but I had put it there, so I didn’t mind so much either.” 

          “I would bite back my moans to keep from having the neighbors from hearing, but you… you were always very vocal,” Mycroft gasped, a hand traveling up to card through his hair. Greg hummed as he let his breath ghost over where he had been biting at the man’s skin, sitting back again to work this time on Mycroft’s buttondown. 

          “I could never help myself, I had you. I was short that life, and to me, you were very, very big.” He teased, letting one hand slide down and palm at the man’s obvious erection tenting the front of his trousers. “You still are. The way that thick cock stretches me and pushes just so against my prostate… I’m sure you’ll have fun now with not having to worry about hurting me the same as before. I wonder how fast that healing aspect kicks in,” Mycroft hissed at his touch, hips canting forward as much as he could. 

          “Gods, Gregory, I love your rough hands on me, so strong, teasing, and just right. Please…” Greg smirked as he felt Mycroft start to shift and beg for him, not that he was any better at the moment, but it was still fun to watch him try for anything he could get. He was pressing kisses against his cheek, those slender fingers tugging at his shirt. “As much as you mention my… assets, I don’t think anyone could ever come close to the way you make me feel, pressing me into the mattress, your hands on my hips, filling me so deliciously.” That wicked tongue licked a stripe up his neck, Mycroft nibbling at his skin, sucking and teasing. “Please love, I need you.” Speeding up to finish with Mycroft’s shirt, he let the man sort out his cuffs as he leaned back just enough to pull off his own shirt, shivering ever so slightly as the air in the room hit his skin before pressing their chests together and grinding his hips down on the other.

          “You have me, my sun, my husband.” He whispered, his own hand cradling the back of Mycroft’s head to keep him right where it felt so good. “It’s addicting to have a man who plays himself so proper to the world, so raw and unfiltered in my bed,” 

          “You are the only one who could ever break through my walls, to have me begging and pleading, to crack the facade of the ‘Ice Man’,” Those lips brushed against his skin as he spoke, Mycroft biting down and licking the abused flesh to sooth it after. Laying back on the bed, Mycroft dragged him down with, Greg landing over him with a soft grunt, propping himself up on his forearms as he moved along the other.”My love, my light, please. We’ve waited over two thousand years for this moment, don’t make me wait any longer…” His lazy, teasing kisses grew hungrier by the moment as he listened to him beg for more. They had talked about what their life would be like after he remembered everything, the hopes for a family, and exploring the world together, but the here and now pushed them for what they knew… not that Greg minded in any way. 

          “My,” He whispered, their trousers getting in the way as they both scrambled out of the last of their clothes, their arousals brushing against one another and pulling hungry moans from each other as they kissed with an ever growing hunger. “Christ Mycroft,” Mycroft reached between them and grabbed his hand, bringing it up to his mouth and Greg’s hips stuttered as he sucked them into his mouth, watching the man as he teased and made sure to get exactly what he wanted. 

          “I think you get the idea,” Mycroft purred, pulling off his fingers with an obscene pop. Pressing his lover back against the mattress with another consuming kiss, he worked to open Mycroft as fast as he could while still bringing him pleasure. 

          “My brilliant lover,” Greg whispered, shifting so he could grab a hold of Mycroft’s erection, straining against his belly. Giving it a few light strokes, he squeezed it tight at the base to ward off his building orgasm, though he never slowed his other hand that was pumping fast, in and out of his body. “You will come on my terms, my dear. Think you can do that?” 

          “Gods yes, whatever you wish, I will do what you ask my heart, please, anything,” Greg smirked as Mycroft begged for more, instead pulling away completely so he could get the lube and thoroughly slick his cock. Just touching himself made him shiver and feel that low heat start to coil in his gut, giving himself a tight squeeze as well before lining up and pressing into his lover’s body. It was a little odd to realise that all of his memories had Mycroft feeling just a little different, even though he was the one point that was always the same. 

          “It’s a good thing this is your favourite form of me,” Greg joked softly as they both adjusted, a little soft moan escaping their lips as he pulled back and started a slow but rough pace, each thrust driving Mycroft hard into the mattress as he lazily guided the man’s wrists to above his head. “It would be horrible to try and compete against myself from the past like this,” 

          “By far my favourite. Your delicious, tanned skin that goes on for miles and ripples so nicely over your muscles,” Mycroft let out another groan as he thrust in again, hard and deep. “Those silver locks that I could run my hands through for days,” Yet again, another moan ripped through his chest. “But the thing I love the most, is your caring, kind and gentle eyes, and that heart stopping smile that you have kept life after life. There is no comparison, Gregory. You are my only love, my light and life, my moon and stars, and if you don’t start moving faster, I will make you pay,” Greg smirked as Mycroft demanded for more, thrusting his hips as hard as he could before continuing to keep the pressure there, even after he had pressed as far in as he could go. 

          “And just what, pray tell, would that be? You’ve admitted plenty of times that I can overpower you. You beg for me to take control, yet you always try to take it back,” He teased, leaning over to trail his tongue along the shell of Mycroft’s ear. “Now, will you be sitting tonight with our friends and family, or do you want to be searching for excuses all night long as to why you can’t bend over?” Greg whispered, grinning at the shiver that went down Mycroft’s spine as he shifted back up, guiding his lover’s legs around his waist before picking up a punishing, but still lax pace. 

          “Do your worst Gregory, I want to see how naughty you can be,” 

          “My worst would involve leaving you indecent to be seen in public for a few days until the bite marks have faded,” Greg admitted with a smirk, biting down on the man’s shoulder to prove his point. 

          “You say that, but I have seen you do far more than that, and I know you remember it now,” Feeling Mycroft try and shift their position, he let him move until he felt that familiar jolt from his lover’s body, pinning down his hips as he delivered a few quick, and apparently well aimed thrusts, right into Mycroft’s sweet spot. 

          “Perhaps, but I’d rather not ruin any of your ties or stop now to bind you, and I did not have to look your parents or Anthea in the eye immediately after,” He purred, scraping his nails over the man’s sides as he held onto Mycroft’s hips. 

          “Might… might need to invest in some new toys then,” Mycroft panted, trying to gasp out the words between cries of pleasure, an attempt of a smirk plastered across his features. Groaning at the scrape of nail down his chest, Mycroft cried as he hit his prostate yet again.

          “Is that what you were wanting? Always rushing, no time for teasing and twisting?” He asked, playing with one of Mycroft nipples as he spoke, using his weight to pin down his lover as they rocked together hard into the mattress, though his pace was starting to falter as his body’s craving for release began to win him over. 

          “Yes, please, love, more, I need it, harder, please, fuck…” Laughing as Mycroft cried out, knowing he had got the man exactly where he wanted, Greg lifted his hips to hold them just right, so every thrust hit his prostate as they chased after their releases. He could feel Mycroft’s body start to tense around him, reaching between them to stroke him in tandem with his thrusts.

          “Come for me, My. My husband, my life. I love you, let me watch.” It was always amazing to see Mycroft lose himself in their pleasure, the way he arched into it and the mix of shock and bliss that flickered across the man’s face as his orgasm washed over him, each wave tightening around Greg and busting across his hand. 

          “Gregory!” It only took a few more thrusts before Greg joined him, breathing a curse as he buried his face in his lovers neck, wrapping his free arm around the man to hold him close. 

          “I love you. I love you so much. My. My sun, my everything.” He whispered between gasps, trying to catch his breath, moving after a minute to grab a few tissues to clean his hand before immediately curling up against Mycroft’s side again. “I know I have forever with you now, but I don’t want to leave your side tonight.” 

          “I love you as well, my heart and moon. You don’t have to leave my side until four when we should probably get cooking before the others show up. That is, unless you wish to have my mother find us here like this,” Mycroft chuckled, running his hand up and down his arm. “For right now, though, we can stay in bed for a while, and later, I do believe we should take a shower.” Greg moaned a soft complaint at Mycroft’s gentle tease about being caught by his mother, pulling a pillow down to cover his face. 

          “God, I wish I didn’t have to remember Nice like that.” He whined, feeling a blush start to colour his face as Mycroft laughed. “That woman is sweet, but doors exist for a reason.” Greg argued, moving out from under the pillow to rest against Mycroft’s shoulder, leaving tiny little kisses there as he allowed his mind to wander, doing his best to pick through the different memories he still had mixing through his brain. 

          “Yes, well she doesn’t seem to respect doors when they are closed, so unless you wish for a repeat performance, we should be decent an hour before everyone is set to arrive.” 

          “Mm, right. Well, now I see why Sherlock always talks about having a mind palace to keep everything straight. Everything is so jumbled together, it feels like I need a map for my own brain now,” He murmured after a minute, his eyes drifting shut though he wasn’t quite in danger of falling asleep just yet. “We should probably check in on Sherlock and John later, though. Make sure John’s alright too. He came to me after Moriarty had gotten him, and was talking a bit about immortals. I didn’t really answer anything because I didn’t know what was safe to say to him. If he starts remembering things though, he will think he’s crazy…” 

          “Yes, he is rather meticulous with his memories, but it will get better my love. From what I understand, it just takes time to adjust. You may even talk to Ryan about what he did when it came to him. As for John, it might be best if you have that conversation with him, as I know Sherlock will not, and he needs a friend. You tell him what you feel safe and comfortable telling him, as you understand what it is like to discover our world. We don’t want him thinking he’s losing his mind if he does start to remember. Normally, he has a few memories from before, which makes it easier, but we do have to take into consideration that Sherlock has gone a few times without him now, so that may be the reason those are lacking in this life.” Greg was silent as he thought about John and Sherlock, worried for his brother in law that he may have lost John for good this time. For all the teasing John got for being so close with Sherlock, and the fact that it was known that he wasn’t completely straight, it didn’t seem as though he had any true attraction towards Sherlock. Or, if he did, it was in passing and nothing serious like his had been when he first started his life with Caroline. Glancing over at the clock to see they still had an hour before they actually needed to get out of bed and start planning, Greg half rolled onto Mycroft and jokingly pinned him, kissing him slowly. 

          “How about that shower? Then we’ll have to decide what to make for everyone, though I’m sure simple will be the best choice.” 

          “I think I can manage a shower, but you will have to choose what to make for dinner, because we all know I can’t cook worth a damn,” Mycroft chuckled, neither of them making an immediate move for the bathroom. “My dear, as much as I enjoy cuddling with you and these sweet kisses, I think I might hear mummy coming up the stairs,” Greg very nearly took one of the pillows to hit Mycroft with as he teased about Violet walking in on them, shifting up and off the other. “You do realise, and I know I have said this before and was giving you time, but now that you remember, she will expect you to call her mum, right?” Standing up and walking, Greg jumped slightly as he was spanked on their way to the shower. 

          “Yes, and I’m sure she’ll start demanding it the moment she finds out too. I may just beat her to the punch and call her it when she arrives,” He shook his head, letting Mycroft sort out the temperature of the water before joining him, running his hands lazily over the man’s back. “Do you think I should tell my own parents? Do you think it’s even worth it? I mean… I’m sure they are bound to notice eventually…” 

          “I don’t see why you couldn’t, though they would have to keep it a secret and understand that eventually we will have to move and create a new life elsewhere so others don’t notice our lack of aging. Luckily, if we have a child, that helps people not pay attention, as they see the child age instead. If I am being honest, I think you should really sit with Ryan now and have a chat. He could be a great resource as to dealing with everything, your family, friends, the memories, everything.” Greg chewed his lip as he thought about it all, knowing that Mycroft was right in that it was simply something he would need to talk to others about to figure out what to do next. No matter what, he was sure it was going to be hard for him since he was so close with his parents, and the thought of moving away and not having contact with them again would be torture for him, especially keeping their future grandchild away as well. 

          “When, love. When we have our little girl,” He reminded the man softly, leaning over to kiss the back of the man’s neck before returning his attention to helping get the worst of the tension from Mycroft’s back. “After we announce it to everyone, I’m sure no one would mind if Ryan and I end up talking together for the majority of the evening about what he’s done. I just can’t imagine shutting out my family, you know how close we all are.” 

          “I never said that you had to shut them out, my love, just that we would have to move away. They can always come and visit, and if need be, you can write letters under a false name. There cannot be any historical record to show that Gregory Lestrade still exists for longer than would be naturally possible, and we can’t have them tracking us when we move to a new town. Our daughter can always go and visit, seeing as she will age normally for quite some time.” Turning around, Mycroft wrapped his arms around his waist, pressing a few kisses to his forehead. “I know it’s going to be difficult, and it will be an adjustment. Out of all of this, losing loved ones that you are close to is something I am very familiar with. I will be here for you, and so will Anthea and Ryan, and even Sherlock, though he will never admit it.” Greg nodded, chewing on his lips as he thought about everything. 

          “I wouldn’t really need to change my name writing to them, I mean… they are my parents. It would be reasonable for all that…” He shrugged, starting to feel awkward talking about his parents mortality, though he was glad that Mycroft certainly understood without needing to explain himself. 

          “I only say false names because once we move, we will have to assume a different name. I have always kept my first name, but the last name has changed throughout the centuries. We don’t want anyone to be able to trace where you went after you left London, to find out that you stayed somewhere else for decades under another name. Not to worry though, it will be quite some time before it will come to that.” Greg rested his head against the man’s collarbone, finding himself perfectly happy just to stand under the shower until he remembered, as the other had been so content to tease him, that they did in fact have guests coming over. Reaching for the soap, Greg lathered up his hands before passing them over Mycroft’s body, always enjoying the simple intimacy of caring for one another like this. Of course his partner returned the favour, spending a little longer than absolutely necessary on his arms and chest before rinsing him off and reaching for the shampoo. Greg was sure by now Mycroft had figured out that he had a bit of a hair kink, always loving when the man gave him a scalp massage or tugged a bit at his hair, though with his tendency to keep it short, it didn’t always lend itself to much play. He’d kept it longer for a while when he was in his early twenties, and now that he didn’t need to worry about aging any more, he was starting to consider growing it out a bit again. It would just depend on how ridiculous it looked with his grey hair. Humming softly as Mycroft ran his nails over his scalp, Greg only just swallowed back the moan that was threatening to come out before chuckling. 

          “You keep saying that we should get ready for your family to come over, but you keep playing dirty.” 

          “I can’t help it that you look so delicious my love, it makes me want to keep you here, wet and naked and purring under my touch,” Greg was going to accuse Mycroft of cheating as they went to get dressed for the day, but the reality was that he simply didn’t mind and would always let him get away with it. 

          “Silly,” He teased as he leaned up to kiss the man’s nose in turn, Greg beaming at the face he always made as he pulled on a nice shirt and jeans, not bothering with getting overly dressed up since it was very much a meeting with what was now his family. Giving a quick kiss to Mycroft’s cheek, he let the man finish getting dressed himself as he made his way down to the kitchen, sorting through the fridge to see what they had on hand, trying to come up with something a little more interesting than just chicken and veggies. 

          Greg was very glad that he hadn’t been holding anything the moment that Mycroft came around, wrapping his arms around his waist and showing him the little box, or he was sure he would have dropped whatever it was on the floor. 

          “Meum sol,” He whispered, gingerly reaching out for the box and opening it to see his ring, the same one from so long ago, still waiting for him. He was a little hesitant at first to put it on, afraid that it would be too small, but it somehow blessedly fit almost perfectly, a tiny bit tight, but not enough to pull any sort of complaint from him as he looked back at Mycroft with a grin. “My husband,” 

          “Every life, no matter how different you have looked, that ring has always fit,” Mycroft pressed a sweet kiss to his lips, taking the box back and returning it to his office. “Now it has a permanent home, and will never have to return back to the box on the shelf to await your return, my dear, sweet husband.” Luckily Greg was able to assign Mycroft the task of slicing the chicken into thin pieces as he worked on making a sauce, or he was sure he would have cut himself more than once as he found himself distracted by his ring, the same one he could remember now from each life with him, but it was still new to him despite the obvious wearing. It was fascinating to him as he studied the little scratches and indents it had gathered in time. Smiling over to Mycroft when the doorbell went off, he knew their time was here. “Well, here’s to tonight my moon.” Greg tossed a healthy handful of spinach to the cream sauce and covered it to let it start to wilt as he moved to greet Violet and Siger, allowing the woman to fuss over him as she always did. 

          “Hello, mum,” He said with only a slight hint of teasing sarcasm, glancing over towards Mycroft with a smirk.

          “Oh, Gregory, my son! You’ve finally come round to me again,” She chuckled, Siger standing by quietly and greeting Mycroft with a short hug. 

          “Come, dinner’s almost ready, and I’m sure Anthea, Ryan, Miles and Sherlock will be here soon,” Mycroft closed the door and directed them all back to the kitchen. 

          “You invited Sherlock?” Greg blurted out, having only assumed it would be the family that Mycroft actually enjoyed spending time with, and that Sherlock would have been told another time, if at all. 

          “Of course I invited Sherlock, my dear. It wouldn’t be fair to leave him out, and you know that he would figure it out eventually.”  

          “Mycie, why have you brought us all here tonight? I know, I am not complaining, as I always love to see my boys, but it’s rather unprecedented, isn’t it?” Mycroft turned to Greg, a worried look on his face. 

          “We have an announcement to make, and we decided to invite everyone over for it,” Greg explained, trying to find a way to buy himself a little bit of time, though he was luckily saved by the arrival of Anthea, Ryan and Miles, the youngest immediately plowing into the first of his ‘uncles’ that was closest, which happened to be him. “Hey, buddy!” He laughed, scooping Miles up and giving him a tight hug before settling him on his hip with a grunt. “You’re getting too big lad!” Greg teased, easily greeting Anthea with a quick kiss to her cheek and shaking Ryan’s hand. 

          “Uncle Geg, momma said I can play after I eat, but you have to play too, okay Uncle Geg, and Uncle Myc!” Miles smiled, bouncing in his arms, looking between the two of them and reaching out towards Mycroft. 

          “Yes, well we have to eat dinner first, as your mother said,” Mycroft smiled, taking the little one from his arms. 

          “ Après le dîner,”  _ After dinner,  _ Greg assured the tyke in French, still enjoying the use of his second language, and knowing full well that it wasn’t any sort of a tell to anyone since he had always been able to speak the language in this life. It was still fun to watch the boy when anyone would speak to him in another language, sometimes holding a conversation in two languages at once where he would respond in English and they would talk in their respective tongues, or sometimes it would be flipped. Ruffling the boy's hair, he moved to look after the meal one last time, quickly stirring the sauce and tasting it, adding a little more pepper before bringing it to the table and announcing that it was ready. Mycroft took the wine out and started to pour everyone a drink, and as if on cue, Sherlock walked through the door, slamming it behind him and walking into the kitchen, making a point to ignore everyone and sitting down with a sulk. 

          “What is this about Mycroft, you know I have more interesting and important things to take care of. The only reason I am here is because Lestrade texted John and I was forced to come,” Greg rolled his eyes as Sherlock came in and sulked. 

          “Even if you don’t want to be here, you can use it as an excuse to play with Miles,” He argued, knowing that Sherlock still pretended to be uninterested in the boy in front of the others, but they all knew better, and it was obvious within minutes that Sherlock was making a point to pay more attention to the boy’s ramblings about his day than any of the talk going on at the table. Smirking over at Anthea, Greg reached under the table to rest his hand on Mycroft’s knee as the talk slowly lulled, and they finished their meal, all eyes turning to them looking for the reasoning behind the dinner that evening. “Right. So… Mycroft and I have an announcement. Two, actually. One, we’re engaged, again.” He smiled, knowing they had sent out messages to everyone in the tiny bit of time they had between Oia and the damned Dartmoor case, but it was still nice to say it out loud. “And two… well, Sherlock, you’re going to have to actually learn my name this time, like you apparently haven’t before, because now you’re stuck with me.” There was silence around the table as they all processed, Greg looking to them expectantly, waiting for someone to speak. 

          “It’s alright, it took me a bit to understand as well. He’s gained his memories back. You were all correct, this time was the last time around for us,” Mycroft clarified, placing his hand on top of his, giving it a small squeeze. Violet was the first to move, standing and wrapping her arms around his neck, a few tears streaming down her cheek. 

          “Oh my boys, my sons. I’m so happy for the both of you. It was always hard for Mycie to lose you, but we felt it too each time. We love you so much my sweet boy, and I’m filled with joy that you two can finally be together,” Greg laughed softly as Violet started fussing over him, returning the hug the best he could while still seated as Ryan leaned over and softly explained what was going on to Miles who was watching them in confusion as to why she was crying. 

          “Thank you, Violet. Mum, mummy Violet,” Greg cycled a few times, chuckling again as he finally settled on one that sounded right to him and he was sure she would accept. “It’s still a bit confusing to me, sorting out the memories and just what to make of some of them since they’re so different from what I thought I knew, but I’m getting there. It was actually because of that case at Baskerville, Sherlock. I haven’t talked to John much since, but it was something in that fog, and I know the two of you spent more time in it than I did.” Anthea was next to stand and move over, pulling Gregory into a deep hug.

          “I’m so happy for you, my dear. You both deserve this,” Pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, she reached out and took Mycroft’s hand, giving it a squeeze before sitting back down. 

          “One last thing,” Mycroft cleared his throat, Greg looking to him with his brows pulled together. “The wedding will take place at the Pantheon where this all started, which of course, you are all invited. We haven’t picked a date just yet, but we will put you all up in the domus, and Gregory’s family will also be in attendance as well,” Greg grinned when Mycroft said that their wedding would be at the Pantheon, not minding at all that he had picked a place to get married without asking him, as it was quite obvious the reason why. Leaning over to kiss his partner gently on the lips, he could only laugh when he heard Miles’ voice his disgust by the action, looking over to see the same look on Sherlock’s face as well. 

          “Well, dinner is technically over, so if the two of you want to go and play games now, Mycroft and I’ll will join you shortly.” Greg easily dismissed them, his heart feeling lighter than it had in a very, very long time. “I still have plenty to figure out myself, so Ryan I’m sure we’ll be having more than a few pub nights again, but… yeah. I remember everything, which is overwhelming if I try to focus on it for too long.” 

          “I know it seems hard to imagine right now, but it does get easier mate,” Ryan chuckled, raising his glass to the other before taking a sip. “But I’m always here if you need to chat, as I’m sure it would be far easier to talk to someone about all of this, gods knew I could have used that,”

          Mycroft stood and placed a kiss on his cheek, those hands on his shoulder as he looked up to him. 

          “Take as much time as you need to talk to them, my dear. I have some business I should really discuss with Sherlock. I’ll just be in the other room.” Greg gave him a soft smile, patting his hands as he watched Mycroft leave. 

*****

          Sherlock had been in the middle of explaining the history of pirates to Miles as they played together, frowning slightly when Mycroft joined them, and it only depended more as his brother began to speak. 

          “Sherlock, we need to discuss matters that relate to Richard. We have him in custody, but we cannot keep him there permanently. You know it won’t stop him, and he will find a way to come back. We need to settle this for good.” Sighing as he leveled a glare at his brother, he leaned back against the sofa behind him and ruffled his hands through his curls. 

          “Miles, go play with your uncle Greg, I’m sure they’re nearly done in the kitchen now, and I’m sure he’ll be happy to play gladiator with your doll.” He said with a sigh, Miles seemingly happy to go with the new distraction. “Talking work in front of your Godson? And I thought it would have been you lecturing me on allowing him a slightly normal childhood.” Sherlock hissed, pushing himself up to stand as this certainly wasn’t a conversation to have sitting on the floor. “Send him to Sherrinford, then. You’re always cycling guards there, he won’t be able to effect any of them, and where, pray tell, is he going to escape to?”  

          “You don’t think that sending him to Sherrinford wasn’t my first thought? He’s already there now, as it is, but he’s immortal, brother mine. We cannot keep him there without other’s realising that he doesn’t age.” Mycroft moved to look out the window, his hands held behind his back. “We need to find a way to end this game he is playing, so that we are no longer in direct range of his deranged mine. That is, unless you are willing to put John’s life at risk again only so soon after getting him back.” Sherlock rolled his eyes, thinking that if it was really that big of a problem then maybe his brother should learn to control his people better, to keep them from talking, but that line of thought was quickly tossed aside with the jab at John’s life. “The man loves puzzles, just as much as he is obsessed with you. If we give him one, and make him think he is winning, we could possibly get him out of the picture completely, if you understand what I mean.” 

          “Whatever you might be thinking, John is not to be one of your pawns,” Sherlock hissed, feeling his rage start to boil over at the mere memory of seeing his mate looking so helpless in the bomb vest and a sniper’s laser trained on his heart. “I’m not playing one of your war games, Mycroft. People died before, people who weren’t necessary to die. No doubt he'll have another game to play soon enough, and as long as it’s only on me, then I’ll play until we can corner him. Until then, I’m keeping John out of this.” 

          “Sherlock, I do not want others to die, and that is  _ never  _ an intention of mine, no matter how you seem to think I care so little for mortal lives. I am saying that we need to nip this problem before he can drag John back into this, which he would inevitably do. I have to release him at some point, brother, so the question is, how do we corner him so we can end this insipid game he wishes to thrust upon us?” Sherlock clenched his jaw, Mycroft stepping closer to him as he stood a little taller to look his brother in the eye as they continued to low key duel with one another. “This isn’t just affecting you, Sherlock. He’s threatened John, and it won’t be long till he goes after Gregory, or even others you are close to, like Mrs. Hudson, or maybe even Molly yet again?” He was ready to snip back at his brother when they were both interrupted by the happy squeal of Miles, followed by an eruption of laughter in the other room, reminding them all of just what was at stake. Closing his eyes and sighing, Sherlock swallowed before dropping himself onto the sofa, pressing his hands together and resting them just under his chin. 

          “He’ll have another game to play, I’m sure. We simply have to draw him out on me, and only me.” 

          “You must be certain that he comes for you, and not others. We don’t need any more heart ache or close calls, brother mine. You must also be sure that he is cornered to end his life, whether it be by our hand, or his own,” Mycroft spoke softly. “I’m sure you can come up with something, as puzzles are your specialty.” Sherlock was silent for a couple of minutes, staring off and unresponsive to Mycroft as he played through different scenarios in his mind until he finally came up with one that seemed to have the fewest failure points, though it was also the most painful for him. If John didn’t remember anything from their past lives together, and he truly didn’t see him as anything more than just a friend… well, perhaps it wouldn’t hurt so much after all. 

          “Richard wants to discredit me, so that I feel like I have nothing else but to turn to him. He wants me to lose everything,” He finally said softly, looking back to Mycroft with a serious expression, though there was a slight hint of fear in his eyes as well. “You’ll need to track every action, every second of his day. He wants me to fail. He’ll gloat, he’ll get cocky, and that’s when he’ll make a mistake. That’s when I’ll strike.” 

          “Sherlock… you know what will happen if that is to be your plan of action. Are you sure you are willing to go through with it? Think of what that might do to John…” Sherlock didn’t say anything as he pushed himself to stand from the sofa, smoothing out his shirt before squaring his shoulders, as if he was the one about to head into battle. 

          “He doesn’t remember me. If this is what it takes to give him the happy life he’s had in the past, so be it.” He said with a short nod, glancing one last time towards the kitchen before leaving without another word, grabbing his coat on his way out the door. If this was going to be the new game, he would need to start planning it now.


	41. XL

          It had taken weeks of paperwork, and a lot of lies and cover stories to finally have the plan in place for Richard’s release. Sherlock had of course come up with a more detailed plan since their last conversation on the matter, as Mycroft refused to let the maniac go until he knew that his brother was good and ready to face whatever horrors the spider would weave. Looking at that familiar face through the one way glass, he couldn’t help but feel pity for the man after all that had happened to bring him here. Features stiff and his eyes narrowed, Mycroft sighed as he knew they would be coming for his approval any minute to let the monster out of his cage. There was a quiet knock on the door, and he didn’t even have to turn to know who it was or what they were seeking upon entrance. 

          “All right. Let him go.” Turning to face the man at the door, he gave him a short nod, walking away and back towards the entrance, wanting to leave the dreaded island of Sherrinford where they had been keeping him. The man had been quiet for his entire stay, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t been idle. Richard had scored his brother’s name in the concrete over and over again, and used whatever he could to scrape it into the one way glass so that every time he looked in on the man, Mycroft would see his brother’s name starring him in the face. He hoped that Sherlock knew what he was doing, and that things went as according to plan as they possibly could, or this could be the worst mistake he would ever make. 

 

*****

**Monteriggioni 1503**

 

          Two years. It had been two years since Sherlock had convinced him to move with him to the small town, so that he wouldn’t be staying on his own in Greece. Everyone had been concerned for him after he lost his love to the black death, but he had to admit that his time in Oia was much needed, though he was grateful to be with family again. It didn’t look like their time in Monteriggioni was to be long lived, as the locals had taken up with the recent witch hunts that had started in the last century, and had their suspicions about them. They were always careful to never stay longer than what would allow mortals to see they didn’t age, but the couple that Sherlock had been staying near to had unfortunately overstepped that boundary. Mycroft knew he wouldn’t be in the town for much longer, as they had all planned to leave as soon as they could acquire new means of a livelihood elsewhere, something Anthea had been working on in London, but they had hoped they would have longer than they actually did. 

          Sitting down at the table with Sherlock and John, Mycroft sighed as he shoved the bits of his stew around the bowl, not feeling particularly hungry that evening, a lot still weighing on his mind. It had been over a hundred and fifty years since he had lost his heart, his moon and stars, and there had been no sign that the man was returning. He wasn’t a fool, and he knew there were stories of losing your mate tragically, long before they were meant to pass, and then never seeing them again, but Sherlock and John had tried, as well as Anthea and Ryan, all in vain, to console him and tell him to hold out hope. Gregory had been so young, and he had such strong hopes that his lover would have beat the horrible disease that had consumed the world, promising the man that as soon as he was better they could go to carnivale together, but alas, that never happened.   
         

          “Mycroft, you have to eat at some point,” John’s voice was soft, Sherlock looking up from his dinner as well, the light from the fireplace flickering off their features as he sighed. “Not eating and starving yourself won’t bring him back.” It wasn’t meant to be a malicious comment, and he knew that John meant well, but the loss and ache still burned in his chest. 

          “I know…” His voice was barely a whisper as he lifted a small spoonful to his mouth, hesitantly taking a bit before setting the utensil back down and swallowing hard. Though he knew it was for the best, moving back to be with his brother, and by extension, John, wasn’t helping as much as he wanted it to. He thought that being with family again might ease his mind, but seeing his brother happy with his mate only made him miss his dear Gregory even more. “I think I am to retire for the evening. Good night.” Standing from the table, he placed the bowl back in the kitchen, making his way towards the front of the house where the stairs to the second floor were, stopping when he heard the crash at the door, the wood swinging on its hinges as Richard rushed through, panting as he looked frantically about. 

  
          “They have him, they have Jim, they are going to burn him at the stake,” Mycroft’s eyes went wide, Sherlock and John now at his back after hearing the commotion, the man in his arms grasping the edges of his jacket. Furrowing his brow, Mycroft frowned as he looked out the door. He had lost his mate to a fate of unspeakable horrors, he couldn’t let the same happen to James and Richard, and dammit if he wouldn’t try his hardest to convince the people to give the man a fair trial so they could have a little more time to pack up and leave. 

          “Sherlock, John,” Mycroft looked back at them, a sense of urgency and fire in his bones as he gestured to the front door, holding tight to Richard's arm as they made their way from the house and towards the towns square. His chest burned as they ran, his muscles aching, but he couldn’t just let this happen, and was willing to feel the ache till they reached the holding cell where James was sitting. Looking around as Richard fell to his knees at the bar, babbling on to James about how they were here to get him out, Mycroft found the mayor and slammed his fists on the counter where he stood. “You have to let him go, Medici! Give him a fair trial! What basis of claims do you have to burn him at the stake? He has done nothing wrong and certainly has not practiced witchcraft!” His tone was harsh as he looked at the man in front of him, who seemed to not care whatsoever that he was shouting and demanding the man’s freedom. 

          “We have reason to believe he has practised witchcraft, and I would be careful, Holmes. Your family is on the cusp of being burnt as well, so if I were you, I would leave as soon as you could, or we will be coming for you next.” Drawing his lips up in a snarl, Mycroft prepared to quip out another response when Sherlock placed a hand on his shoulder, pulling his attention away from the man in front of him. 

          “Mycroft, they aren’t going to let him go, and if they plan to burn him tonight, there is no escaping.” 

  
          “We can’t just sit back and let it happen though, we have to do something!” Mycroft snarled, enraged and feeling helpless, not sure how they could make it work, but knowing he would exhaust every option. 

          “Do what, brother mine?” Stopping, he let his anger simmer, looking down between them. There was no convincing the mayor, he knew that, and yelling and fighting with the man would only push their own sentences up sooner, endangering them all. Giving one last glare at the mayor, Mycroft turned to where James sat in the cell, pressing close to the bars. 

          “James, look at me, we are going to do everything we can to get you out of here. I know I can’t convince Medici to let you go, but we might be able to rescue you before…” He trailed off, not wanting to state the man’s fate aloud. “Just be ready friend, can you do that?” Though the man didn’t look like he was holding out much hope, his posture slouched over, his eyes bloodshot and his hands shaking, the man gave him a small nod. “Come Richard,” Mycroft helped the other to his feet, ignoring the protests that the mortal mate gave and dragging him off where they could discuss their plan in private. If this worked, or even if it didn’t, it meant their immediate departure from the town, and that until Anthea had secured them homes and identities in London, they would have to wander from home to home. “We have to gather our things. It won’t be until sunrise that they burn him, so we have all night to figure out what we are to do. No matter, we need to be ready to leave. Sherlock, John and I can pack the things at our home, can I trust that you will stay with Richard and help him pack their belongings? Once we are set, we shall meet just outside of the gate to leave our belongings in a carriage, then we will return here. Until then, Sherlock, start planning. I will need all the help I can get with this scheme, as I know I am not cunning enough to do it alone brother.” Placing a hand on Sherlock’s shoulder, he looked to those determined eyes as his brother gave him a curt nod before taking Richard and moving back towards the man’s home. “Let us hope that we can come up with something, and that the Gods are on our side tonight.” 

 

          It was a few hours later and Mycroft and John had finished loading up the last case into the carriage, walking the horses quietly down the street towards the edge of town where they had said to meet Richard and Sherlock. They had been quiet all evening, solemn looks passed between each other and they knew this was going to be next to impossible to pull off, especially with so little time. The others were waiting when they arrived, managing to fit their things in the back as Mycroft tied the horses to the post, knowing that no one would be round to see them until the morning shift came through, and by then, the church bells would ring and everyone would be called to watch the execution in the town center. Giving their mare a good pet on her cheek, Mycroft smiled sadly and walked back to where the others stood, crossing his arms and sighing. 

          “Beyond ambushing the guard as they escort James, I’m afraid I haven’t been able to conjure much else in the way of a plan.” His voice was soft as he looked to the grief stricken faces around him, Richard’s expression horribly pained. 

          “They will have the cell heavily guarded, so we wouldn’t be able to break him out, and I’m sure they will employ the same amount of protection whilst walking him to the pyre. We need a way of distraction--” Sherlock cut off, the loud chime of the church bells cutting through the silent night air. Mycroft’s heart sank with each chime, knowing that the only reason they would be going off at this time of night was due to an attack, or… 

          “James!” Richard screamed, rushing off towards the town center, the rest of them in tow. 

          “Richard wait, you can’t just run in there, they will take you as well if you interfere!” John shouted, but it seemed that nothing they would say could deter the man from speeding off. Weaving their way through the city streets, Mycroft gasped as they ran, his legs and chest burning, the cool air from the night biting at his skin. They wouldn’t make it in time, there was no way. The cell house was far closer to the center than where they had started, and if they were ringing the bells, they had already set up the pyre and were ready to execute their prisoner. It felt like time dragged, taking far longer to reach the center than normal, his limbs dragging as he tried to keep up with the others, his heart heavy. Skidding to a halt just as they reached the opening, Mycroft’s jaw dropped as he saw James tied tight against the stake, the piles of wood at his feet and the men with their torches at the ready. The man looked absolutely terrible, having suffered at the hands of his captors before being brought here, the evidence plain on his skin, those bruises, cuts and lacerations seen through his clothes that now hung about him in rags.

          “No…” 

          “James Moriarty, you have been found guilty of witchcraft. The law clearly states, that anyone found practising, or worshipping the devil, shall not be permitted to live. Your way of life is an abomination before the one true God, and therefore, it must end. For the crimes of sorcery and prolonging your life past what God has intended, we of the council find you guilty, and sentence you to burn at the stake until dead.” Before he could react, the torches were thrown into the pile of wood that had been soaked in either to stoke the flames, the heat now singing his skin as they stood and watched. 

          “James!” The sound of Richard’s screams broke him of the trance, watching as the man shoved his way through the crowd and towards the pyre, clearly intent on trying to release his partner. 

          “Sherlock!” Looking around, he found his brother and pulled him towards the front, needed to grab Richard before he killed himself in the process. By the Gods luck they were able to pull him to safety before he reached the fire, restraining him, his shouts and and screams of pain ringing in his ears. “Richard, stop, there’s nothing you can do for him. If you go in there, you will die, and James wouldn’t want that, would he?” As much as it hurt him to say these things, to give up hope of rescuing a friend, and what Sherlock might consider family, Mycroft knew there was nothing they could do, they were too late. Looking up, the flames started to reach the man’s feet, his screams of pain echoing through the town center, the three of them collapsing on the brick as they watched in horror. 

          “Do something! Both of you! You can rescue him, please! The fire won’t kill you, not right away, just please, do something, we can’t just sit here!” Richard screamed, looking between himself and his brother. 

          “I’m sorry Richard, but we cannot. If any of us go in there, we will surely perish,” Sherlock’s voice was soft, but Mycroft could hear the pain. Sherlock had been in James' company for centuries now, the two of them actually friends, which was an oddity for his brother who kept only the company of John. Richard was newer, only having had a few lives with the immortal, but it was clear that this life, James hadn’t explained much about them as far as their destruction went, and Mycroft didn’t blame him, it was never a pretty topic to mention. He watched in horror as James’ body tried to recover from the loss, his skin singeing and burning, only for it to try and heal a few seconds later, and the process starting anew. If there were any question as to witchcraft, the townspeople needing look much further, as the display was not something he could explain away. In his moment of weakness, watching James with wide eyes, Richard struggled and managed to throw himself forward, the crowd parting as he threw himself onto the flames. 

          “No!” Mycroft surged forward, grasping the man, his brother right behind him, and the flames licking at his skin, burning. The pain was intolerable, but he wouldn’t let the man die trying to rescue his mate who was already too far gone. Screaming in pain, they pulled Richard back off, John at their side as they put out the flames on their clothes, the crowd having separated to watch the commotion. Doing his best to sit up, the smell of burning flesh filling his nostrils and the smoke in his lungs, Mycroft looked down at Richard, the man writing on the floor in hysteria. They needed to leave and soon, knowing that the burns in his flesh as well as Sherlock’s would heal, and their time for the pyre would be pushed forward. Gingerly standing, Mycroft helped his brother up as well, the both of them grasping Richard under the arms and lifting him so they could carrying him out. Almost making it past the crowd, Mycroft froze when he heard one of the townsfolk cry out in their direction, screaming slurs and accusing them of witchcraft. 

          “They’re one of them too! Witches! All of them! Throw them to the flames!” He was certain they would have a little more time, as their burns were covered by their singed clothes, but looking to Richard who hung between them, he realised in horror what had given them away. The trauma of the fire and seeing James burned alive had been enough to trigger his memories, and the majority of his burns, which were far more visible, had now begun to heal. Looking to his brother in shock, they started to run, doing their best to stay ahead of the crowd as they wound their way through the streets, the dead weight of Richard’s body making it far harder to escape. John had reached the carriage before they did, with some luck, and they were able to drag the unconscious man into the back just in time, the carriage pulling away as the start of the crowd reached the gates. Letting out a small breath of relief, Mycroft watched as the town slowly grew smaller in the distance, his heart starting to calm in pace. Shifting gingerly in the carriage, most of his burns had started to heal, if not fully so, but there were a few that were still tender. 

          “I fear, brother mine, that we are in for something we have never faced when Richard awakes.” 

*****

          They traveled well into the night, putting as much distance between them and the city as they could, until they felt safe to settle for the night, all of them weary and exhausted. They didn’t have the luxury of staying at an Inn, but at least it was a warm summer’s evening, their furs enough to hold them till morning. John slept fitfully through the night, having bandaged everyone the best he could for their lingering burns before everyone had gone to sleep, weary of any of his companions finding themselves in too much pain. He had noticed that Richard had been the first in the group to wake, forgoing sleep a few hours before sunrise, no doubt still in shock though he certainly couldn’t blame him. The mere thought of losing Sherlock the way he had lost James drove John closer into his partner’s side, smiling faintly as he felt the man’s arm tighten instinctively around him. It was comforting and assuring to him, granting him a few hours sleep until the sun started to rise and Sherlock began to stir as well. Murmuring a soft greeting, John pressed a light kiss to the man’s cheek before burying his face into his chest. 

          “How are your burns healing? It seems as though they should only be tender by now,” 

          “I will live, no matter how uncomfortably,” Sherlock grumbled, scrunching his features.

          “Yes, but I don’t wish for you to live uncomfortably.” John argued back softly, clenching a hand in Sherlock’s nightshirt. 

          “You didn’t sleep well last night. Kept tossing and turning. Trauma settling in from the burning?” Sighing as his partner brought up the night before, John looked down, a frown creasing his features. “I… well, yes. I was worried for you, love. You were burnt and just watched your friend die… and…” He trailed off, pressing a tiny bit closer than he already was to his partner, unable to voice the feat that had been playing constantly through his mind. What if it had been Sherlock up there? Immortality was not what the vast majority of the world thought it was, or even knew existed, and living a life of secrecy beyond what they already did as a gay couple, still weighed heavy in his mind. 

          “That won’t be me, John. James knew that he had been overextending his stay in Monteriggioni, and normally, that can be dealt with. It’s these damn witch hunts. We thought we were safe as the fascination with them hasn’t really entered Italy, but this time, our misjudgement, unfortunately, cost James his life.” John nodded slightly as Sherlock assured him that he wouldn’t lose him the same way they had lost James, reaching up to trail his fingers lightly over the man’s cheek as he looked back up at him. 

          “Sherlock,” John prompted after a moment, kissing the man gently to silently urge him to open his eyes. “Love, Richard just lost his partner. What do we do now?” 

          “The only thing we can do. Be there to answer his questions, remind him of the immortal life, and hopefully, all of us can cope through the trauma of what we experienced last night.” Sherlock sighed, opening his eyes and looking over to him. 

          “You should go and speak with him. I doubt Mycroft’s in a good state with the loss of his partner, and I certainly don’t understand just what life he’s in now.” He gently urged him, leaning up to kiss him one more time before shifting partially out from under the furs that they had piled into a makeshift bed. “I’ll care for the fire and get us all something to eat. I’m not sure Richard slept at all last night, though hopefully, he’ll get some rest in the cart later today.” Standing, he moved to get the fire going, watching out of the corner of his eye as Sherlock took a seat next to Richard, and no too softly, started to speak with the man. 

          “You didn’t sleep last night. Look, I know this is difficult for you, and I understand it will take some time. There are things though, that you should know now that you are immortal, and I don’t believe James ever got the chance to explain in this life.” 

          “I remember so many lives, being born, and having died. To know James went through that kind of pain…” John pressed his lips in a thin line as he started the fire, looking through their supplies of food to see what they had, but staying close enough so he could listen. “I’m immortal now, right? Do I start searching for a mate as well?” John paused, thinking on the question and realising he didn’t know the answer for that either. 

          “This is your fourth life with James, so there will be quite a bit of history to sort through. I have been there each time James found you, so if you have questions, I will answer them. You are immortal now, so you won’t age, you won’t die. We heal a lot faster, as I’m sure you saw.” Bit not good. John cleared his throat, throwing a glare in his partners direction to cut him off. “ _ You _ do not start searching for a mate. There is only one for us all, and yours…” 

          “But that was when I was moral. I’m immortal now, so I have to have a mate, right? That’s what immortals do, they search for their mate. What if… what if it wasn’t James, then? You were there every time. What if it was you? What if it’s supposed to be someone else and I just haven’t found them yet. James was kind, yes, but…” 

          “No, Richard, you don’t search for a mate. You were not immortal born, you were made into one later. The only way for that to happen is to remember your past lives with your mate, the only one you will ever have, and I’m sorry, but he’s gone.” John put down the utensils, watching the two of them intently, seeing Sherlock shake his head and frown. “Richard. I am not your mate. James was.  _ John _ is my mate, and has been for over a thousand years. I met him when I was very young in Rome, and knew from then he was to come back to me. I am sorry about what happened to James, he was a friend and his loss pains us all, but he’s gone and that’s it, there won’t be another.” There was a part of him that wanted to smile and go soft as Sherlock made sure that Richard knew he was taken, that he was his partner, but on the other hand, his heart ached for Richard. 

          “There has to be another way,” Richard murmured, hiding his face in his knees and breaking out in sobs. 

          “I’m not sure why you asked me to console him, I only made things worse,” Sherlock growled, looking at him as he walked to his side. “He thinks I am his mate, not James, and that he is supposed to be with me. You told me to do this, you fix it.” 

          “Sherlock,” John sighed as the man stalked off, trying not to laugh as he threw himself down onto the ground and dramatically pulled their blankets over him. A quick glance towards Mycroft showed that even the elder brother found his antics amusing, though they both quickly sobered at the sound of Richard’s cries in the early morning silence. Making a small pot of gruel for them all, something simple but warm, John gave Mycroft a bowl before venturing over to Richard’s side. “I’m sorry there wasn’t more that could be done last night, but you have to understand… James loved you. He always talked about you even when you weren’t there, always telling Sherlock how happy he was to have met you again, and that was why he never wanted to leave, he always wanted to stay there with you. You should eat now, James would want us to keep you safe, and he would want you to take care of yourself.” 

          “John, I think we should give him some space for now. He knows there is food, but it might be best if we leave him be…” John sighed as he set the bowl down in front of the man who hadn’t even acknowledged him, wishing that there was something, anything, that he could do to help, but knowing that Mycroft was right. Checking on a few of the elder brother’s burns, glad to see they were healing well, John returned to his mate’s side to eat. He  knew the man would come out of his mind when he was ready, but for now he brushed his hand gently through his curls while he ate, a part of him possessively not giving a damn if it upset Richard to see him with Sherlock. Sherlock was his, and that was that. 

*****

          John woke with a soft groan, his shoulder screaming at him almost as loud as the dream he had just had. It felt real, like his nightmares from his service, but to dream of witch hunts in Italy… he’d never even been there, and the more he thought about it, everything he had dreamed was in Italian as well. Glancing around to anchor himself back in his room in London, John carefully pushed himself up onto the side of the bed, stretching his shoulder out as he tried to figure out just what on earth he had dreamed of. He doubted he would get a straight answer out of Sherlock, having gotten hardly anything out of him after being dressed up in explosives, and even Greg had been weird afterwards… but he’d also had that seizure and had been speaking different languages just beforehand… John shook his head as he picked up his mobile, smiling to himself at the notification that he had an email from James. Perhaps he was spending too much time with Sherlock to be having dreams about loving him and being his ‘mate’ or whatever his brain had provided him, but in his reality, he still had James and they could still make things work. They were moving again and receiving a batch of new recruits, but besides the lot of injuries for no good reason outside of being new, they both knew that life in the war zone wasn’t conducive to relationships. Asking when his next leave might be, John hoped to see his Major soon, memories of the last time they were able to see one another flooding his mind and washing away what questions he had from the night before, the doctor pocketing his phone as he made his way downstairs to start making tea. 

          “What was it? Another PTSD nightmare? I thought those had stopped since you started solving crimes with me.” John blinked as Sherlock ‘greeted’ him, passing his tongue over his lip as he considered answering him or ignoring him completely. Glancing at his mobile and seeing that James had to go for the day, he sighed and took up their mugs, bringing them into the main room. 

          “Why do you always have to be so blunt?” He complained softly, handing over Sherlock’s before setting his own down and dropping himself into his chair as well. 

          “I am blunt because there isn’t a point to social niceties. People never say what they mean, it’s all so tedious. I ask what I really wish to know, instead of beating around the bush like most would.” Rubbing his hand across his eyes, John decided not to press the issue further, taking a sip from his mug. 

          “Just because I don’t have a limp anymore doesn’t mean I don’t still have PTSD, and just because it’s not the first time I’ve seen someone trigger a…” John cut himself off, feeling that he was starting to tense and his voice was rising, he looked away, settling on the fireplace. “Just the trauma setting in. isn’t that what you’d say?” 

          “Trauma. Right.” John sighed as he leaned back in his chair, clenching and unclenching his fist as he counted to ten, back down, then up once more to make sure he wouldn’t end up throwing his mug across the room before speaking again. 

          “I thought that was what your deductions were for. It was a dream, but not one that made sense. Probably just the remnants of that fog drug in my system.” He shrugged off, sipping at his tea a little longer before reaching out for his computer to get to work on his blog for the day, see if there were any new cases to distract Sherlock so the man could stop focusing on the weird dream he had had.

*****

> **_Take John out to the pub, or wherever you both go together. He’s upset and hiding something. He won’t tell me. -S_ **

          Greg raised an eyebrow at the text Sherlock sent him, shaking his head in amusement before kissing Mycroft goodbye for the day. 

          “Apparently Sherlock’s getting an early start on annoying John. I’ll probably be late taking him to a pub. I’ll call once I know what’s up, yeah?” He said with a smile to the politician, sneaking in one last kiss to his nose with a laugh before grabbing his things and heading out the door. Waiting until lunch to message John, he was relieved when the man quickly accepted the offer for a few pints, meeting up at what had simply become ‘the pub’ between them. Ordering a few and settling at a bench towards the back corner, Greg waved to john once he came through the door and sat with him. “Thanks again for taking care of me back at Dartmoor with that seizure. My sends his eternal gratitude, by the way.” 

          “Yeah, well couldn’t just stand by and do nothing now could I?” John chuckled, shaking his head as the man took a seat across from him. “Good to know you two are back together though, and doing well. Guess Mycroft finally got his head out of his arse?” Greg laughed and raised his glass to Mycroft getting his head out of his arse with a grin. 

          “That he did. Engaged now, even. Miles is excited to be the ring bearer, even though he’s bummed that he won’t actually get to be a bear.” He laughed, looking down at the old ring on his hand with a fond smile. 

          “So, did you ask me here because something isn’t as happy as it seems, or just because? I worry that we only see each other like this when something happens,” Greg shrugged and rubbed the back of his head before returning to his drink. 

          “Fair, but actually because Sherlock said he was worried about you this morning. Though, I have been meaning to ask if you’ll be my best man for the wedding and all.” He admitted, hoping John would accept both statements. “He’s a hell of an arse, but he’s protective of you. He’s just very bad at showing it, like I’m sure you’ve figured out by now.” John groaned and rolled his eyes, a hand rubbing over his face as he slumped in his chair. 

          “I told him that everything was fine, just…” 

          “Just it’s not.” Greg prompted gently, waiting for John to speak, however much he wanted or didn’t want to. “I heard about what Sherlock did with his experiment, what with trying to drug you and scare the piss out of you after. I’m amazed that man is still alive, as I would have killed him on the spot.” He shook his head, sipping at his pint and smiling faintly when the waitress came by with John’s fish and chips. 

          “Almost bloody did,” Greg’s stomach grumbled at the sight of the food, the D.I. offering an apologetic smile as the woman laughed and offered to get him something to eat as well. 

          “Just chips, thanks.” He grinned, looking back to John once they were alone again. “These sorts of talks always seem to be easier over food. So, what’s going on?” 

          “I’m going to sound absolutely mad, so you have to promise me right now you won’t admit me after I tell you,” Greg smiled weakly as John demanded for him not to bring him to a psych ward, sure now that the drugs they had breathed in had unlocked some sort of memory for the doctor. 

          “Promise. After how long I’ve known Mycroft and Sherlock? I really don’t think there’s all that much that can shock me anymore. I won’t judge, promise,” He said with a nod, raising his glass as well to prove his point. John hesitated though, staring him down for a bit before sighing and shaking his head. 

          “I had a really… really messed up dream last night, and I’m pretty sure it has to do with everything that has been going on… but,” He trailed off, staring down at his drink. “I was in Italy, and the weirdest bit was that the whole damn thing was in Italian, which I don’t speak a lick of, yet I could understand it all. Anyways, in Italy, in medieval times, maybe? Dunno, mate, sometime when there were witch hunts. With Sherlock, Mycroft and get this, Moriarty, but instead his name was Richard, which Sherlock has actually said is his real name…” Greg wasn’t sure at first where this discussion was going to go, fearful for a moment that it was going to be some horrible war dream before John starting talking about Italian witch hunts. Frowning slightly since he didn’t remember anything of the sort from his lives in Italy, Greg pulled out his mobile and searched for a general time frame, then compared it to when he would have passed from the plague to figure out that it must have been in the gap before he came back. 

          “Look, mate. John. I’m going to be honest with you. You’re not crazy, but the answer I have for you will sound it.” 

*****

          John’s brow furrowed as the man started, saying that his answer to the question was going to sound just as crazy as the dream had been, and if he hadn’t known Greg, he would have laughed in his face and told him to piss off, but he could tell that the D.I. wasn’t lying to him. 

          “Remember before after the whole set of trials that Moriarty set up and you were asking about what Sherlock had said, concerning immortality? Well, you said it was impossible, and I said that you would think so…. But you’d also think a bullet through your shoulder would have killed you too.” Greg murmured. “I’ve… I’ve been Mycroft’s partner twelve times. Mate, technically, but I hate that term. It sounds so weird to me, so I stick with the term partner instead. Anyway, your dream was a memory from a time before. That drug that was in the fog, it unlocked my memories, which was why I kept speaking in different languages and ended up having a seizure at the Inn. Sigher, though, My and Sherlock’s dad, assures me that isn’t how it normally happens. Usually it’s far calmer and either happens when someone’s asleep or they sort of zone out for a bit, then come back and they remember, but that was what you had last night. God I know how confusing and disorienting they can be, too.” He tried to laugh at the explanation, giving it a light chuckle as he shook his head and took a sip of his drink, or actually just downed the rest of his lager, ordering another and staring off as he looked back on the dream… memory, whatever again. 

          “Right, that’s funny mate, real good joke. Bet both you and Sherlock are in on this right? Because seriously, me, alive in… whatever time that was, in Italy, with Sherlock? If you really were Mycroft’s ‘mate’,” He motioned with finger quotes as he used the word, “Why weren’t you there in my dream? Also, you’re telling me that I’m supposed to be with Sherlock? Hell, I suffer the man, put up with him as a flatmate, and while I will admit he’s not the worst looking bloke I’ve met, who the hell thinks they could manage a relationship with that one? I have James, that’s who I am with… not Sherlock.” 

          “John,” Greg hissed, acting as if he shouldn’t be speaking loud enough for others to hear. “I was dead at the time, that’s why I wasn’t there, and I know you’re with James now, I get it. As far as I can tell there is still a measure of free will involved, so if you love someone else, then be with them. I’m still learning everything myself, but what I’m telling you is the truth.” Greg urged, thinking for a moment before pulling out his pocket knife. “Immortals heal faster,” This sounded even more ridiculous by the second, almost like a badly written teen novel, that was until Greg pulled out a pocket knife, John’s eyes going wide.

          “What are you doing? Greg - no!” Reaching for the knife, it was too late, the man had already sliced his palm, nothing too deep, but still enough to cut through the skin, the blood pooling in the middle. 

          “Ow… apparently the pain doesn’t lessen as much as Mycroft leads you to believe it does, that was stupid…” Looking around for his napkin, John went to put pressure on the wound when he saw the man was wiping away the blood and the cut was gone. Hesitating, he tried to make sense of what he just saw, not sure how the other could have faked something like that. 

          “But you just… I saw the blood…” Reaching out, he ran his fingers across where he had seen the cut, the skin smooth, not even a sigh of a scar. 

          “You did. I know what I’m saying doesn’t make any sense right now, and when Mycroft first told me I thought he was crazy too. I’m not saying you have to be with Sherlock, because apparently they can lose their partners if they don’t find them for a while, or if they just royally screw up, but… well, if you have more memories, that’s what you might find. I just didn’t want you to think you’d gone mad. I just wanted you to know what’s happening.” 

          “Yeah, cause I don’t feel like I’ve gone mad now,” John sighed in frustration, sitting back in his chair, barely noting the waitress as she stopped back again, apparently flirting with them, as he was still trying to wrap his mind around what Greg was telling him. 

          “If only she knew we were talking about boyfriends… I mean you and James, really. I’d like to meet him, if you ever get the chance to bring him around. How is he doing?” His eyes shot back up at the mention of a boyfriend, ready to defend his reality, the actual reality, not this crazy fantasy that the D.I. was trying to sell him, when he backed down and said he had meant James. If only him and James were still together, the man had told him to find someone else, but that didn’t stop them from emailing as much as they could, and for John to look forward to the first time James could come back and visit. 

          “He’s doing alright, training a few crows and all, normal injuries and such. Just wish I was back there with him…” John trailed off, smiling as he thought about the man. 

“He makes you happy. I’m sure Mycroft knows the right strings to pull so the two of you could meet up and have a little holiday together. If you’d rather me not say anything then I’ll respect that too, but I feel like after everything I’ve dropped on you, I owe you some sort of apology.” John nodded as he looked to the D.I., that same soft smile still on his face. 

          “Very much so. It’s odd, they say that opposites attract, but James and I… we’re both very similar. He’s sweet and caring in a silent way, very reserved and shy, and though I’m not completely against social situations, and have been called reserved, being with him makes me a little more open than I had been before, only because I know he won’t be. It’s nice, that strong, quiet reassurance from him.” Lifting his drink, John took another sip after a few seconds, realising that he was becoming far to sentimental for a pub night. “Sorry mate. Didn’t mean to go all romantic on you. You don’t owe me an apology, I’m just glad someone was finally honest with me about everything. Wish I could say it takes a weight off my shoulders, but I’m pretty sure trying to wrap my mind around it all is not lifting any of my burdens tonight.” 

          “You’ve had me talking about Mycroft like that more than once, and gush over Miles plenty of times. Just wait till I’m actually a dad, you’ll never hear the end of it.” Greg grinned, chuckling and waving off his apology. “It’s… it’s not one of those things that’s easily explained. It’s not something that makes sense and it’s not talked about much. There’s a lot of secrecy to it all, between the fact that it sounds ridiculous and the fact that nothing good ever comes from people trying to gain immortality. It’s only fair though, that if you’re starting to have these memories, for you to know what’s going on. Ask me questions whenever you want, but I’ve known about all of this for quite some time now and I’m still confused with it.” John frowned, thinking more about what Greg had said, and realised something that struck him. 

          “Wait… you said that the fog unlocked some of your memories, which is something that happens when you aren’t… immortal,” The word weighed heavy on his tongue as he said it, the gears ticking as he tried to think this through. “But you heal faster, which is something only immortals do. Are you telling me that you are now…” John questioned the other, looking up to him with his brows knit together. “How is that possible though? I mean, I get Sherlock and Mycroft, guess they were just born that way, but you obviously were not. Is that going to happen to me?” His eyes went wider at the thought, now considering his own mortality and what this could mean for him. 

          “Don’t know, mate, and the thing is, no one really does. Apparently all it takes is remembering everything from our past lives in order to become immortal, but no one really knows when that’ll happen. My says it can be four or five lives, for me it was twelve spread out over a very long period of time. Ryan took fourteen times, but he came back quickly each time. So… I can’t really give you a straight answer on that one mate, I’m sorry. Trying to remember does nothing either, I’ve tried. It just gave me a headache.” 

          “So you are telling me, that you just happened to remember everything, and now… now you’re one of them?” It was weird to think of Greg as ‘one of them’, the Holmes’ being their own sub genre of human, but no one ever really fit into that category besides the two of them. “Shit, so that eventually might happen to me one day… but only if I’m with Sherlock? Otherwise… I die. Then keep getting to come back and die again…” Sure everybody fears getting older, and when he was on the battlefield, death wasn’t a stranger to him, but to think about having to keep coming back, and dying, over and over again, that was even more terrifying. 

          “I have no idea. I don’t know if you can remember them when you aren’t with your partner or not. I mean… I’m still getting used to it myself. All I know is that the knife thing is a cool little party trick that Mycroft would probably murder me for.” John frowned at the offhanded joke, Greg’s smile fading quickly. “Otherwise, I guess, yeah. You’re human just like everyone else. My parents, sister, her kids… everyone else I know besides Mycroft, Sherlock, their parents, Anthea, Ryan and Miles. It’s not to say you can’t be happy without him, because you are. The way you talk about James? It’s the same for me with My. You didn’t remember anything until we were all drugged, and for all we know, Sherlock’s not your mate anymore. But don’t worry about it, John. Just be happy. That’s the important thing, what I know Sherlock would want for you. There’s nothing you can do or not about remembering, so just… don’t focus on that.” 

          “Little hard not to now, I mean, it’s also going to make this blood awkward to go home to Sherlock now, knowing all of this, that he’s been my…” John paused a moment, his nose scrunched as he thought about the word. “Mate, for god knows how long. Shit, Greg.” He was seriously at a loss, not sure how to handle any of this, and god only knew that Sherlock wouldn’t talk about it with him. He had to get information from Greg, someone he didn’t even realise had a connection to all of this, but apparently was a bloody immortal now too. “Fuck, mate. I just... I need more to drink,” He wasn’t sure if knowing any of this information actually made him feel any better, or if he just was more confused now than he had been before. 

          “John,” Greg sighed, looking to him with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry this is all going south. I just wanted to be honest with you about everything. I think it would be best if you went back, and just  _ made  _ Sherlock talk with you about this. I was with Caroline when I found out, so you aren’t the only one this has happened to. Sorry for putting all of it on you at once, I didn’t know how else to explain it.” 

          “No, look, I’m glad that you told me, even if this is the most unbelievable shit I’ve ever heard, and I’m still hoping you’re pulling my leg mate, but at least someone was honest with me. Sherlock won’t talk about any of this, and neither will Mycroft, so at least I can trust you to tell me.” John sighed, picking at his chips, but not really deciding to eat any of them. This was not what he had expected for a pub night, well, not something he had ever expected, to be quite serious. Who thinks that one night they would walk into a pub for drinks with a friend, and get told that they’ve been alive multiple times, with the same person, and have the chance at immortality. Running his hands over his face, John let out a groan of frustration, stuck between drinking more and going home to pass out, or confronting Sherlock and asking him why the hell he thought it was a good idea to keep this from him. Neither seemed like a better option. 


	42. XLI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for being so patient, and hopefully these next few chapters will be worth the wait!

 

          “Fuck,” Sally swore, her face scrunching up as she got the call, rushing straight towards Greg’s office, not even bothering with knocking. “Sir, there’s been a break-in.” She hated to rain on his day, as her boss seemed to be having a good day, something he really needed, leaned back in his chair and eating a jam filled doughnut, 

          “Not our division.” Sighing, Sally pressed her lips into a thin line as she tried to give him her, ‘shits serious’ look, hoping he’d realise she wasn’t joking and that he was in for a storm. 

          “You’ll want it.” 

*****

          Greg still couldn't understand how the call was possible, but with his connections to the Queen he had been able to get on the call with the London and Royal police. “Hacked into the Tower of bloody London security?! How?!” He asked in disbelief as he made his way through the traffic as fast as he could, sirens blaring overhead. Muttering under his breath when Donovan’s mobile began to ring, the DI glanced over at his Sergeant as she answered it. “Tell them we’re already on our way.”

          “There’s been another one; another break-in. Bank of England!” 

          Sally and Greg glanced at one another for a second before he slammed his hands on the wheel, muttering under his breath again worried that he knew just who was behind this and praying he was wrong. They weren't granted much peace though, as only a few minutes later they were granted with another call

          “What is it now?” Greg asked, already fearing the answer.

          “Pentonville Prison!” 

          “Oh no!” moaning, he made the last few connections in his head as to who was behind all of this, his gut screaming that it had to be Moriarty, and fearing what madness he would wreak this time in order to get what he wanted. Clearly he was already capable of more than what anyone should be, the sudden fear of just what they might be driving into hitting him as well. Shifting in his seat to get his phone out of his pocket, Greg glanced down long enough to make sure he was pulling up the right contact before hitting dial, waving off Donovan’s questioning glance as he pulled off to the side. “Yes, this is D.I Greg Lestrade… I know. I’m responding to that call now. I need to speak with them immediately.” He argued, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration before leaning over and killing the siren for a moment. 

          “Gregory my dearest, I do enjoy your calls and always love to chat, but they said it was urgent?” 

          “Lizzy? I need you to hold your men at the Tower.” He said in French the moment the Queen answered on the line, praying she would understand that he was trying to keep their conversation at least relatively secret. “It’s probably Moriarty and if it is, it’s one of his plays at getting to Sherlock. Hold your men and let me go in. He can’t kill me as easy as he could kill your soldiers.” 

          “I will have them stay back, but Gregory, what do you mean he can’t kill you as easy? Please do not do anything reckless, if Mycroft ever found out that I held the guard and let you go in there alone… If something happened, he would never forgive me and I would never forgive myself.” Greg sighed, running his hand through his hair before rubbing the back of his neck as he spoke. 

          “I can remember everything. I’m like Mycroft now, but that means it’s harder to really hurt me. I know it’s dangerous to just walk up to him, but I won’t let your men be killed because he wants to see me or get to Sherlock instead. I’ll be careful, Elizabeth, I promise, but I don’t want your men in there without knowing who they’re facing. All I ask is you let me take command of the arrest. Will you let me do that? Please?” 

          “I understand, Gregory, but please, be safe. I will have my guard stand outside the vault and wait, and they will have direct instructions to follow your orders, but I will also inform them that should anything go pear shaped and you get hurt, to intervene immediately, am I understood?” Nodding, he knew full well he would have plenty to explain between telling Elizabeth that he was immortal and the odd glances he was getting from Donovan for speaking in French, which she knew he could do, but didn’t do so unless necessary. 

          “Of course ma’am. With luck, he won’t be doing anything but clamouring for attention, but luck isn’t always on our side in these situations.” He sighed, saying his goodbyes before hanging up and turning his siren back on. “Mycroft’s connections are really useful sometimes. They’ve locked him in the jewel room and we’ll be the arresting party with the guard supporting us.” Greg caught Donovan up with as much as he felt she needed to know, driving the rest of the way in mostly anxious silence until they pulled up outside of the Tower where they were met with a few of the police and royal guards to escort them in. “Detective Inspector Lestrade, acting for Mycroft Holmes. This is my second in command, Sergeant Sally Donovan. Status?” He spoke quickly, the two of them showing IDs before being lead up into the grounds.

          “Tower is clear of tourists and on full lockdown, sir.” The officer said quickly.

          “The families that live here?”

          “Everyone is safe and accounted for. Thank you.” One of the guards added with a faint smile, the group pausing outside of the building that held the Crown Jewels. “Our suspect is still locked inside of the vault. What are your orders?” 

          “Guns on ready, but hold fire until we know he's a direct threat.” Greg decided as he nodded to be lead in, Donovan raising an eyebrow already about to question him but he was able to beat her to the punch. “If he looks armed, don't think twice to guard yourself. But let's not shoot then check and see if he's armed.” He defended his decision, Sally nodding slightly in agreement as they came to the vault door and the Guard worked to open the emergency lock. Once the door opened they were greeted to a slightly unnerving sight; Moriarty sitting on the throne inside the glass case that housed it wearing the coronation robe and the crown on his head, the orb between his knees, the sceptre across his lap and rocking his head in time with whatever he was apparently listening to on his headphones. It was only a moment later that Richard opened his eyes, a dark smirk lighting up his features as he glanced over the group that was standing in shock in front of him, Greg feeling a cold shiver of fear pouring down his spine as the man locked eyes with him.

          “No rush,”

*****

          Greg didn’t even bother to text Mycroft to tell him he was on his way to the office, hardly saying a word to Donovan once they had arrested Moriarty and gone over the surveillance with Sherlock, his Sergeant knowing he was leaving for his partner’s since this was clearly beyond them. Swallowing anxiously as he made his way down the hall, only pausing long enough at Anthea’s desk to make sure that the man was actually in his office and not in a meeting, Greg let himself in and walked straight to his desk, setting his hands flat against the top to try and calm some of his panic. 

          “My, what the fuck is happening right now? How the fuck did Richard get into the Tower, the Bank and Pentonville? This isn’t a game anymore!” 

          “Good Afternoon, my love, so nice to see you too. Please, come in, make yourself at home,” Mycroft sighed, looking up to him, Greg closing his eyes and clenching his jaw, leaning heavily on the edge of the desk as he willed himself to calm down. 

          “I’m scared,” He admitted, this time in a whisper that was only just loud enough to be heard before pushing himself up off the desk and pacing around the office, one hand anxiously tugging at his hair as Greg tried to work out the rest of his nervous energy without yelling again. “My, that… should have been impossible. How… how? How did he do that? He didn’t even fight when we arrested him, like it was just to show off. I don’t… what’s going on?” Mycroft stood after a moment, walking over to him and wrapping his arms around him, Greg half heartedly trying to break out of the hold, only tugging slightly against his partner's arms before leaning heavily against his chest and holding him close as well. 

          “Hush, love. I know. He has a lot of connections, but he didn’t do it to steal anything. He did it to show he could, to get attention, which worked. He’s desperate for Sherlock to notice him, and if he can’t get my brother to pay attention to him through puzzles, he will try far more grandiose schemes, till he breaks down and moves on to the next part of his plan. I didn’t tell you about this because I didn’t want you to have to lie to John, if I had told you we had let him go.” 

          “You…” He started to argue against not knowing anything, but had to admit that not knowing was certainly better than having to look John in the eye and lie to him outright. He had tried to explain immortality to John and already had a hard enough time trying to be honest, getting caught up in everything, but this would be worse. “Tiny bit of warning next time?” Greg asked with a weak smile, looking back at Mycroft, feeling absolutely exhausted, though it was hardly past six now. 

          “I’m sorry love, I should have given you some warning.” 

          “So… this is another one of his games to get Sherlock chasing after him again? I just… why can’t we just take him out? This is insanity. He’s insane. Literally everyone knows that now, I just… god, I can’t believe I’m even asking this, but why wasn’t this done before?” 

          “We cannot just take him out. It is against the law of our community to harm another immortal. When I said earlier that we ‘dealt’ with those who went rogue, it was usually that we locked them away. I should have explained better. Then again, this sort of thing has not happened in our community, save for a select few, Richard being one of them. When he first lost his mind, we thought he had been taken away, but he kept coming back, no matter what we did. Sherlock and I are working on a plan to effectively end this, but it can’t be by our hand, it has to be by his own. I know it is risky, and very difficult to insure that it will happen the way we wish, but we have to try something. John will need you more than ever when this is through, Gregory.” He nodded slightly as he listened to Mycroft, still learning about all the rules and practices of being an immortal, a tiny part of him sarcastically wishing there was a manual that came along with gaining all of your memories again. Frowning when he mentioned John, Greg looked back up, a new sense of dread flooding over him as he tried to figure out just what exactly was in store. 

          “Mycroft… Sherlock’s my family too. Even if John doesn’t love him, he still cares. He’s still his friend. Whatever you’re about to do, you can’t just throw that all away, it’ll destroy him.” 

          “I know he still cares, and that this won’t be easy, for anyone, especially John, but it’s the only way to stop Richard, and to make sure he never harms anyone ever again. He has killed so many, and without a doubt will kill John if it means that he can have Sherlock. As much as it pains my brother, and he knows the consequences, if it can save his mate, he will do it. You have to understand, we wouldn’t choose to go this route if there were any other way, but after centuries of trying and losing, we have to put a definitive end to this.” Greg sighed but nodded anyway, wanting to end to everything as well. He had been absent when Richard had gone insane, so his memories of the man were only that of a madman, and each little bit he learned only seemed to bring up more questions. 

          “Just… let me help, somehow. Please. Even if you can’t tell me everything, he’s my brother too.” He said softly, lifting a hand to cradle Mycroft’s cheek with a weary smile. “Thank you for calming me down, but the question still stands of what to do now. This is all utter insanity. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with Richard next.” 

          “Well my dear, this will have to be turned over to my team, which I know I promised you to always go through you, so I had planned to speak with you before sending them. We do need to set up a court case, and high security for the jury as I am sure Richard will try his hardest to get whomever he can, using whatever thugs he can round up. As long as no one gets into their hotel rooms, they should be safe. Afterwards, Sherlock and I will handle the rest. There are a few people we have helping us, and the pieces should fall into line. Just… please be safe my love. I know you are immortal now, but that does not mean that he cannot harm you.” 

“I feel like I should be the one tell you that right now.” Greg sighed, brushing his thumb lightly along the man’s cheek before leaning up to kiss him slowly, his hand moving to cradle the back of his head as he deepened the kiss, needing the comfort found in being so close to his lover. “I will be, and I’ll trust the two of you to get this done, but you have to promise me no more explosions and no more children involved, okay? I was never good with children cases before Miles, and I’m an absolute wreck now with him. I’m not doing that again with this bastard.” 

          “Gregory, I would never allow children to be a part of this, and please tell me that you do not believe that I would have let him use children in his insane games to catch him. Our plan is to finish this with as little collateral damage as possible, and that means no children.” 

          “I know, I know, just… that last time…” Greg murmured, burying his face into Mycroft’s chest with a frustrated groan at the memory. “I trust you, love. I do. I’m just… a bit out of my comfort zone with all of this.” He sighed, pausing as he felt his phone start to buzz in his back pocket. “No doubt that’s the office. I think I’m actually glad your lot will take him out of our hands now, and get on making the case against him. It’ll be easy as hell with him and the jewels, it’s just proving the connections to the others as well. High security for the jury in these sorts of situations is pretty normal, so that won’t be a problem. Try and be home some time tonight?” Greg said with a tight smile, already feeling the stress starting to come back to him, just knowing he needed to get back to work. “Promise me you'll stay safe too, my sun.” 

          “Of course my moon and stars,” Mycroft gave him one last kiss, Gregory smiling as he looked up to him. “I will see you tonight.” 

*****

          He didn’t attend the court case, no need, he knew what was going to happen, and if it didn’t go as he had deduced, he knew what would be coming afterwards. Instead, Sherlock sat on his couch, reciting what would undoubtedly be said by the judge, everyone watching, even on national telly. 

          “Ladies and gentlemen of the jury. James Moriarty stands accused of several counts of attempted burglary, crimes which - if he’s found guilty - will elicit a very long custodial sentence; and yet his legal team has chosen to offer no evidence whatsoever to support their plea. I find myself in the unusual position of recommending a verdict wholeheartedly. You must find him guilty. Guilty.” Of course, it didn’t take long for his phone to go off, John calling him to tell him the sentence that had been given. 

          “Not guilty. They found him not guilty. No defense, and Moriarty’s walked free. Sherlock. Are you listening? He’s out. You-you know he’ll be coming after you. Sher…” Hanging up the phone, Sherlock sighed as he stood up from the sofa, knowing exactly what was coming. Stepping into the kitchen, he turned on the kettle, slamming down a small tea tray on the counter Mrs Hudson had left on the table at some point and put out a jug of milk, sugar bowl and a teapot with two cups on it. Setting everything down on the table beside John’s chair once the water had boiled, Sherlock crossed the room and picked up his violin and bow. All there was left to do was wait, and nothing sounded better than to play something dramatic, Bach’s Sonata No. 1 in G minor to be exact. It didn’t take as long as he thought it would, a noise coming from downstairs, Sherlock pausing for just a moment to listen before starting back up again, waiting till his guest reached the door. 

          “Most people knock. But then, you’re not most people, I supposed.” Gesturing to the tea with his bow, Sherlock didn’t move to face Richard, instead looking out the window. “Kettle’s just boiled.” 

          “Johann Sebastian would be appalled. May I?” Sighing, Sherlock put his violin down, moving to pour tea into their cups, facing the spider for the first time since he arrived in the flat. Thankfully Richard had taken up Sherlock’s normal chair to be closer to where he was standing, and not sitting in John’s. 

          “Please.” 

          “You know when he was on his deathbed, Bach, he heard his son at the piano playing one of his pieces. The boy stopped before he got to the end…” 

          “And the dying man jumped out of his bed, ran straight to the piano and finished it.” 

          “Couldn’t cope with an unfinished melody.” Pausing, Sherlock smirked at the banter, almost as if the man hadn’t completely lost his mind all those years ago, it almost feeling like the real Richard was back again, but he wasn’t naive enough to think that was anywhere near true.

          “Neither can you. That’s why you’ve come.” 

          “But be honest: you’re just a tiny bit please.” 

          “What, with the verdict?” Picking up one of the teacups, Sherlock added a splash of milk before turning and offering the cup to Richard who was now sitting up straight, giving him a small, tight smile before taking it. 

          “With me, back on the streets. Every fairytale needs a good old-fashioned villain.” Was that what he thought he was now? The villain? So very dramatic. Turning away, Sherlock fixed his own cup before taking a seat in John’s chair and taking a sip, letting the warmth slide down his throat while Richard continued on. “You need me, or you’re nothing. Because we’re just alike, you and I - except you’re boring. You’re on the side of the angels.” 

          “Got to the jury, of course.” He was going to ignore the off handed comments, not needing to feed into the man’s plot to keep him going. Richard was so far gone that just talking with him period would keep him going. 

          “I got into the Tower of London; you think I can’t worm my way into twelve hotel rooms?”

          “Cable network.” 

          “Every hotel bedroom has a personalised TV screen… and every person has their pressure point; someone that they want to protect from harm. Easy-peasy.” 

          “So how’re you going to do it…” Blowing on the tea, almost as if to make a point of his words. “Burn me?” 

          “Oh, that’s the problem - the final problem. Have you worked out what is it yet? What’s the final problem? I did tell you, but did you listen?” The man’s voice was rather sing-song, just like the night they had met in the pool, images of his beloved John wrapped in C4 going through his mind. Taking another sip of his tea, Sherlock watches as Richard starts tapping on his knee, continuing to stream the man along. “How hard do you find it, having to say ‘I don’t know’?” 

          “I dunno.” 

          “Oh, that’s clever; that’s very clever; awfully clever. Speaking of clever, have you told your little friends yet?” 

          “Told them what?” That Richard was a loose cannon? That they planned to lead him to commit suicide, to have him end his own life, to effectively kill an immortal who had been terrorising them for centuries?

          “Why I broke into all those places and never took anything.” Oh. Dull.

          “No.” 

          “But you understand.” 

          “Obviously.” 

          “Off you go, then.” Sherlock paused, looking at Richard and trying to read what he could from the man, to figure out why he was still dragging this out.

          “You want me to tell you what you already know?” 

          “No; I want you to  _ prove  _ that you know it.” 

          “You didn’t take anything because you don’t need to. You’ll never need to take anything ever again.” 

          “Very good. Because…?” 

          “Because nothing…  _ nothing  _ in the Bank of England, the Tower of London or Pentonville Prison could possibly match the value of the key that could get you into all three.” 

          “I can open any door anywhere with a few tiny lines of computer code. No such thing as a private bank account now - they’re all mine. No such thing as secrecy - I own secrecy. Nuclear codes - I could blow up NATO in alphabetical order. In a world with locked rooms, the man with the key is king; and honey you should see me in a crown,” If people thought he was dramatic, which most said he was, they should have a conversation with Richard.

          “You were advertising all the way through the trial. You were showing the world what you can do.” 

          “And you were helping. Big client list: Rogue governments, intelligence communities, terrorist cells. They all want me. Suddenly I’m Mr. Sex.” 

          “If you could break any bank, what do you care about the highest bidder?” 

          “I don’t. I just like to watch them all competing. ‘Daddy loves me the best’ Aren’t ordinary people adorable? Well, you know: You’ve got John. I should get myself a live-in one.” Sherlock’s lip curled into a snarl, hating hearing his partner's name on that man’s lips. It made his blood boil to hear Richard say John’s name with such mocking adoration, same as from the moment had gained his memories and somehow came up with the deranged idea that they were supposed to be together.

          “Why are you doing all of this? You don’t want money or power - not really. What is it all for?” Sherlock watched as Richard pick up an apple and dig his knife into the side as they talked, growing curious as to what he could be carving.

          “I want to solve the problem - our problem; the final problem. It’s going to start very soon, Sherlock: the fall.” The man raised his head, whistling slowly in a descending note while lowering his gaze towards the floor. “But don’t be scared. Falling’s just like flying, except there’s a more permanent destination.” If he intended to kill him, they would have to be falling from a very high location, either that or this was another metaphor, but he wasn’t quite sure yet. Every little bit of information he got from the man was one step closer he got to solving the problem on his end, finding a way to end Richard before he unleashed horrors on everyone he cared for. 

          “Never liked riddles.” 

          “Learn to. Because I owe you a fall, Sherlock. I…  _ owe _ … you.” Richard stared him down, taking his sweet time getting ready before slowly turning and walking out of his flat. Once Sherlock was sure that the man was gone he grabbed at the apple, the knife still stuck in it where he had been whittling away during their little discussion. The man had dug a large circular piece of the apple, and on the left an ‘I’ and the right was a ‘U’. This might be easier than he had thought, the gears ticking away in his head as he let the pieces fall into place, a small smile twitching at the corners of his lips. 

*****

          “So far everything has gone according to plan, nothing too surprising or unexpected. With that in mind, we must plan for something to go awry, and how we will handle it, Sherlock.” Mycroft sighed, taking a seat in the arm chair across from his brother, a glass tumbler with find scotch in his hand, his chest tight as he looked over to the other. Richard had of course come right over to 211b Baker street as soon as he was released from court, not trying to harm Sherlock, but to warn him, that if he did not comply, things were going to start to get very bad, very quickly. What that meant for John and Gregory, neither of them knew or wanted to know, but they had to act quickly and plan ahead. “He knows that you will not come easily, and most likely his next stop is to either target John, or to discredit you till John believes you a monster and leaves, then you have no choice but to come to him.” Sherlock was silent, his hands pressed together under his chin, not speaking for quite some time, while his poor Gregory was pacing the room, his heart aching for his partner. 

          “Would you stop pacing, Lestrade? You’re not supposed to like what Richard is doing to me, that’s the entire reason he’s doing it. He’s insane, there is no planning that we could do that would be meaningful as there’s no way to predict what he will think of next.” His brother snapped, glaring at Gregory. “I don’t even know if it is best for you to be here since you will be the only friend John will have by the end of this. You will have to lie to him, tell him that you don’t know what is happening, and we both know how poor of a liar you really are, but if he discredits me, if he frames me for something, you have to arrest me. You must play by Richard’s rules, and we will have our own plan to stop this once and for all.” 

          “Sherlock!” Mycroft scolded, his features tugged into a frown as his brother mocked Gregory. “Just because he’s worried and upset about what is happening does not mean that you have to yell at him for expressing it.” Standing, he moved to stay by his partner’s side, wrapping his arms around the man’s shoulders and pulling him close. “He is right, my dear. If Richard does anything like that at all, you need to go along with it. It doesn’t even have to be him, per say. If anyone believes the lies that Richard spews and acts in a way that he wishes, whether they know it’s his idea, you have to go with it. It won’t be easy, but if we wish to protect those we care about, there are some things that we are going to have to do that we don’t agree with.” 

          “My, it’s alright,” Gregory murmured. “It’s a catch twenty-two, isn’t it? I want to be here to help, to know what we’re getting ourselves into, but knowing will only hurt me and make me a liability when it comes to John. I still think he should know too, but he really didn’t take well to me trying to explain immortality to him, so…” His voice trailed off, resting his hands on his chest with a tired smile. “I’ll stay in contact with the both of you as things change, so at least the two of you won’t be blindsided of what my team’s got into their heads.” 

          “No. He can’t know, he will try to interfere. He doesn’t have his memories, and that is what is making this easier to do, to walk away and make sure that Richard never comes for any of you again, most of all John. Graham, you really should leave. You are a horrible liar and if you say anything to John…” Sherlock trailed off, nailing the man with a glare as he frowned. Mycroft shot another look at his brother, feeling torn between the plan they had and his partner, hating that he had to leave him out of this and just trust that everything would go smoothly, well… as smooth as something could go with this was their situation. 

          “Actually, brother mine, I think we are done for now. Gregory knows to go along with anything that may come up, unless we inform him otherwise, and I think you need to be alone. Your attitude is irritating and I would like some time to speak with my partner alone.” His tone was a bit more harsh than he had intended, but the situation they were in had left them all raw and irritated and at each other’s throats. 

          “Mycroft,” Gregory warned, looking between the two of them. Sighing, Mycroft followed his partner out as they walked out onto the veranda, the night air kissing their skin. “My, John is starting to remember. He has at least some memories that he got back after everything that happened at Baskerville. I know he said that it’s easier without him knowing, but doesn’t he deserve to know that?” 

          “If you told him, sure it would be a relief for Sherlock, but the think how much harder going through with this would be. He will come back, Gregory, and when he does, he can come back to John, memories and all, knowing that his partner is safe. If we tell him that John is remembering again, and that clouds his judgement, Richard could kill them both, and possibly more. I know it is not the most ideal situation, and unfortunately there will be broken hearts, but if all goes according to plan, no one will die.” Resting his hands on the man’s shoulders, he sighed as he looked into those deep, brown eyes, his heart aching for his family. 

          “Except for Richard.” Gregory murmured, resting his hands against his wrists. “You’re right, I just feel… off, about all of this. There’s so much unknown and I know it has to be like that for everyone’s good, but that doesn’t mean I like it any more or feel any less guilt about what’s coming for John. I just have to trust that this will be worth it in the end, for our family and our baby,” 

          “I promise, even through the heartache, this is worth it and we will be safe soon and able to start our family,” Leaning down, he kissed the man softly, smiling as he leaned against the other. 

          “Love you.” 

          “Love you as well my moon and stars.” 

*****

          “Anthea, I do believe I have burned it again,” Mycroft sighed, looking over to his friend, the woman chuckling softly as she tossed the beginning of their meal and stared once more, Miles squealing in the background as Ryan sat with him on the floor, toys spread about. “I want this to be right for Gregory, he’s had such a hard time the last couple of months, and I really think this surprise will be something good for him,” He started, watching as she shifted the pan, running the spoon through it every so often to make sure the liquid didn’t settle, and that the meat didn’t char to a crisp. 

          “My, whatever you do for him, he will be thankful.” 

          “Yes, I know, but this is far more important.” Sighing, he didn’t attempt to take over, having already burnt the food twice and just resigning to letting her make it. “Thank you for being here tonight. I know he will have questions, especially for you, so this helps a lot.” 

          “I wouldn’t dream of having it any other way,” Anthea smiled, adding a few more spices as they continued to work on their meal. 

          “Glad to see you again, mate, but I have to say, I pray you’re here on a social visit and not work. I can’t do much more today.” Looking up when he heard Gregory come in, Mycroft could see the man’s expression of worry and doubt as to why Anthea and Ryan were there. 

          “Nothing bad has happened, love.” Leaving Anthea at the stove, he walked over to the other, pulling him into a hug and kissing his cheek, holding him for just a moment before pulling back. “What’s wrong? What happened today?” Cupping the man’s cheek, he could see the stress and wear on the other’s face, those bags under his eyes becoming more pronounced, Mycroft’s heart aching for his love. He just hoped that the news he was planning on giving to the other would give him something to hope for, something to hold onto. 

          “Nothing, that’s the entire problem. Nothing’s come from anything that we’ve tried to find, that… jerk.” Gregory muttered, trying to keep from cursing in front of Miles. “Nothing. Six weeks of non stop searching, every moment I’ve got to spare trying to find him, and it’s like he never existed. I don’t get it. Every name I have for him, and I don’t get a single hit outside of the news stories. Not even a residence.” 

          “Well, tonight is just a social visit. My wanted to give you a surprise to get your mind off everything. Come, sit. Ann’s nearly got everything sorted out and then we can eat.” Giving a thankful look to Ryan, Mycroft dropped his arms and let the other go, moving back to Anthea’s side and helping with whatever he could, setting the table and bringing the finished dishes to them as well. The food was delicious, though Anthea went on and on about how it was never going to be as good as Gregory’s to which his partner tried to stop her from gushing. As they ate, the conversation finally came to a lull, and everyone had sat back, their stomachs full and everyone content, Mycroft turning to Gregory and taking his hand. 

          “Love, there’s a good reason I called Anthea and Ryan here,” 

          “And me!” Miles chirped, looking towards him with a scowl. 

          “Why did you invite Anthea and Ryan  _ and  _ Miles?” Gregory asked, a hint of sarcasm in the man’s voice as he tried not to laugh when the boy gave a hard nod before sitting back in his seat again. 

          “Well my heart, Anthea and I have been working hard to find the right facilities, checking into each one personally to make sure that nothing was happening there that we didn’t agree with, and we think we have found the right people to help us start our family. Now, I know we can’t until… everything has settled,” He didn’t want to say Richard’s name and just upset Gregory, so instead he elected to let the other fill in the blanks. “But, I thought we could look into it, and give you the chance to tour the facilities and meet with the geneticist as well, decide for yourself if you think it is a good fit.” 

          “I also wanted to let you know, that as soon as you give us the green light, Ryan and I have talked it over, and we are willing to start right away to try and give you your little one as soon as possible,” Anthea added, looking to Gregory with a smile, her hand reaching across to hold onto Ryan’s, Miles letting out a huff and standing on his chair so he could reach to his parents hands, putting his own on top.

          “Thank you, All of you…” Gregory finally forced out, his voice tight as he looked to them all. “That’s amazing, thank you.” 

          “Ugh, is he gonna cry?!” Miles groaned, sitting back in his seat as he played with his toys, Mycroft chuckled as he watched the child, reminded almost instantly of how Sherlock had been as a little boy.

          “Cry if you wish love, don’t listen to Miles, he’s just being dramatic. I think he’s been spending far too much time with Sherlock,” Smiling he rubbed his thumbs in little circles over the back of Gregory’s hand, glad that the other was happy with their news. “Whenever you wish, we can go and take a tour of the facility. I just thought this would be a silver lining to when this is all finished, we can finally start a family.” 

          “Yeah yeah,” Miles sighed dramatically, looking over to them all. “You already have a family. I’m bored, can I go play?” 

          “Help take your plate into the kitchen and we can get a cookie for dessert, then we can play in the living room.” Ryan said with a smile to his son, knowing it was an easy way to distract the boy who was quite firmly within his ‘terrible toddler’ years. 

          “I’m so sorry I’ve lost myself in all my work, trying to get everything figure out and just get this nightmare done once and for all. I didn’t even know you were doing all this for me. For us. Thank you, really, and thank you Anthea for agreeing to be our surrogate.” Greg murmured, glancing between them before leaning over to kiss her cheek in gratitude. “As soon as this nightmare is over, I’d love to look into it with you both.” 

*****

          Sighing, Mycroft crossed the room to pour himself a drink from his own personal reserve, knowing that John would be in within a minute, his team having gone to collect him when there had been a disturbance in the foyer. While any other time he would have been amused by the production of getting the man to come see him, the panic that he knew was lurking in that text from Gregory served as a reminder of how important this meeting really was.

          “Tradition, John. Our traditions define us.” He explained once he heard the door close, taking a moment to collect himself once more.

          “So total silence in traditional, is it? You can’t even say, ‘pass the sugar,’? 

          “Three-quarters of the diplomatic service and half the government front bench all sharing one tea trolley. It’s for the best, believe me.” Turning to face the John, Mycroft gave him a small smile before it faded, moving to take a seat in one of the armchairs in the middle of the room. “They don’t want a repeat of 1972. But we can talk in here.” That or any of the other times where there had been a disaster when tradition and rules had been broken, which seemed to happen every fifty years or so, but that was details that weren’t necessary for their conversation today. 

          “You read this stuff?” John held up the copy of ‘The Sun’, a horrible print that was sporting the most ridiculous stories, especially when it came to his brother, but it was a guilty pleasure. 

          “Caught my eye. Saturday: they’re doing a big expose.” This Kitty Riley had been to speak with Richard, who was now going under his real name to try and discredit his brother, which was what Sherlock had predicted, and it was a bit hard to prove that the man never was Moriarty, especially when that detail came from the last time he had used that name, some time in the 1500’s. 

          “I’d love to know where she got her information.” 

          “Someone called Brook. Recognise the name?” The question was a bit of test, wondering if maybe John had remembered some facts, but also a moment to see if John would talk to him, Gregory having told him that the man had a dream about the very incident, but that didn’t necessarily mean that the doctor would tell him either. 

          “School friend, maybe?” That was a no, which was fine, if John wanted to keep the fact that he knew about his past to himself, it was better and would make it easier for Sherlock to go through with his plan, which would help them all. Granted, he had faith Sherlock would go through with it no matter, but no reason to make this any harder for his brother than it already would be. 

          “Of Sherlock’s? But that’s not why I asked you here.” Walking to the side table, Mycroft grabbed the folders that were there, returning to John and handing one of them over, a photograph attached to the front for him to look through. 

          “Who’s that?” 

          “Don’t know him?” 

          “No.” 

          “Never seen his face before?” 

          “Umm…” 

          “He’s taken a flat in Baker Street, two doors down from you.” 

          “Hmm! I was thinking of doing a drinks thing for the neighbours.” Sighing, Mycroft looked down to the man with a straight face, John giving him the biggest, sarcastic grin he could muster. 

          “Not sure you’ll want to. Sulejmani. Albanian hit squad. Expertly-trained killer living less than twenty feet from your front door.” 

          “It’s a great location. Jubilee line’s handy.” 

          “John…” There were times when he could handle the sarcastic marks and sass that John gave him, it being the characteristic that made him perfect for his brother, not putting up with his shit, but now was not the time and this was far more serious than the man was giving him credit for. 

          “What’s it got to do with me.” 

          “Dyachenko, Ludmila.” Setting down another folder, Mycroft takes the seat opposite of John, the man groaning as he looks to the photograph, frowning. 

          “Um, actually, I think I have seen her.” 

          “Russian killer. She’s taken the flat opposite.” 

          “Okay… I’m sensing a pattern here.” Very good, Watson. Mycroft rolled his eyes, handing the man the rest of the files, letting him go through files before speaking again. 

          “In fact, four top international assassins relocate to within spitting distance of two hundred and twenty-one B. Anything you care to share with me?” The man looked through the photographs before chuckling and looking back up at him. 

          “I’m moving?!” Now he was quickly losing his temper, narrowing his eyes as he looked to John, not amused in the slightest. 

          “It’s not hard to guess the common denominator, is it?” 

          “You think this is Moriarty?” Of course it was Richard, who else would be coming for them like this, just as he had told Sherlock, that he said that Richard would come for John as well, to leave his brother with nothing in hopes that he would come back to him, even though Sherlock was never with him in the first place. 

          “He promised Sherlock he’d come back.” 

          “If this was Moriarty, we’d be dead already.” Maybe John, possibly, because his life was still so fragile, everyone else was immortal, which Mycroft was selfishly thankful for when it came to Gregory as it took a lot more to rid them of their lives. 

          “If not Moriarty, then who?” 

          “Why don’t you talk to Sherlock if you’re so concerned about him?” This meeting was not going as planned, and instead of warning John, trying to get the man to understand the gravity of the situation, he was just giving the impression that he was worried about his brother, and Sherlock alone. Granted, he was concerned for his brother, but it would take a lot more to take down Sherlock than it would if Richard came for John. Looking away, his fingers toying with his glass on the table beside him, Mycroft tried to find the right words to say to explain this all so that John would actually listen to him. “Oh God, don’t tell me.” 

          “Too much history between us, John. Old scores; resentments.” 

          “Nicked all his Smurfs? Broke his action man?” Glaring the other down, a frown tugging at the corner of his lips, Mycroft had to bite his tongue to keep from snapping at the other. John had no idea that it had been his fault that Richard had killed him, and now that that he was back, Richard would not stop until he had Sherlock to himself once more. John just laughed, putting the files on the table and moving to leave the room. “Finished.” 

          “We both know what’s coming John. Moriarty is obsessed. He’s sworn to destroy his only rival.” 

          “So you want me to watch out for your brother because he won’t accept your help?” 

          “If it’s not too much trouble…” And to watch out for yourself as well. Mycroft watched as John stood and left, a frown tugging at his lips as he dug his mobile from his jacket, chest tight.

> _ Just spoke with John. He won’t listen, and did not take my warning seriously. I worry about him, and how this will all play out. Please, love. Be there for him. I need you to help us, go along with whatever comes up, no matter how much it hurts, and I will try and explain as soon as I can, but most of all, be there for John. He is going to need someone more than he knows. -M _
> 
> **I’ll try and get him to listen, and I'll be there for him through everything, but… we just got a missing persons. A brother and a sister. Kids, Mycroft. It’s Richard, I know it… - GL**


	43. XLII

          “What  _ are _ you?” Looking into the microscope, Sherlock scowled as he tried to figure out this damn glycerol molecule that was evading him, the last key that he needed to finding the missing children and solving yet another puzzle Richard had set up for him. They had been working for hours, testing the pieces from the footprint, trying to see if there were any clues as to where the could have been taken, John now in the corner looking over paperwork and Molly beside him typing on her laptop. 

          “What did you mean, ‘I owe you’?” It was the first thing she had said besides answering him when he asked for chemicals or confirmation. John moved again, walking across the lab, standing out of hearing range, almost hidden by the wall, Sherlock watching him intently. With everything that had been happening, he was a tad on edge and didn’t want the other to be out of his sight until Richard was taken care of. “You said, ‘I owe you’. You were muttering it while you were working.” Looking back down into the microscope, he tried to focus back on the molecule. 

          “Nothing. Mental note.” 

          “You’re a bit like my dad. He’s dead.” Sherlock sighed, not sure why she was going on, though Molly never did seem to know what to say around him. “No, sorry.” 

          “Molly, please don’t feel the need to make conversation. It’s really not your area.” 

          “When he was… dying, he was always cheerful; he was lovely - except when he thought no-one could see. I saw him once. He looked sad.” 

          “Molly…” His voice was stern as he kept his focus on the microscope, not sure where this conversation was going, but not wanting it to continue, especially not with John in the room. She had been told too much by Richard, not correct information, but enough that she could be dangerous around John, saying things he didn’t need to hear, that would only have him asking more questions. 

          “ _ You  _ look sad… when you think he can’t see you.” Looking up, his gaze drifted towards John, knowing that was exactly who she was talking about, the man completely unaware of their conversation. Turning to look at Molly, Sherlock kept his features schooled, not wanting to bring attention to them. “Are you okay?” Opening his mouth, he was quickly cut off, Molly telling him off again before he could even respond. “And don’t just say you are, because I know what that means, looking sad when you think no-one can see you.” 

          “But  _ you  _ can see me.” 

          “I don’t count.” That was not what he had expected her to say, but then again, Molly never seemed to say what he thought she would. “What I’m trying to say is that, if there’s anything I can do, anything you need, anything at all, you can have me. No, I just mean… I mean if there’s anything you need… It’s fine.” Frowning, he looked towards her as she stuttered her way through, flinching when she made a mistake and shook her head. 

          “What-what-what could I need from you?” Sherlock watched as she turned back to him, slowly processing, obviously taking a moment to think before speaking this time. 

          “Nothing. I don’t know. You could probably say thank you, actually.” Molly nodded, nervous but firm as she stared him down. He really should thank her, as she had been there, a lot, and put up with him and allowed him here in the morgue. He knew his permission to stay here landed on her shoulders. 

          “Thank you.” Frowning, he turned away, looking elsewhere as he tried to process their conversation, wondering where it was coming from. 

          “I’m just going to go and get some crisps. Do you want anything?” Before he was able to respond, Molly beat him to it again, cutting him off. “It’s okay, I know you don’t.” 

          “Well, actually, maybe I’ll…” 

          “I know you don’t.” Watching her go, he frowned again, not sure what had gotten into Molly as of late. Maybe it was everything with Richard, as he had messed with her as well, and now, with him on the loose and threatening anyone who came in contact with him, it would only stand that she would be worried. 

*****

          Greg sighed as he took a moment in the hall to calm himself, his ears still ringing from the sound of the Claudette screaming at the sight of Sherlock coming into the office to talk to her. He understood that there was supposedly a plan behind all of this, but Mycroft had promised that there wouldn’t be children involved, and now little Max was in the ICU with acute mercury poisoning. John had assured him that since it was caught early Max would recover with minimal injuries, but that didn’t change the fact that it happened. While it still upset Greg that Mycroft had purposefully allowed for Moriarty to escape, he honestly believed that he wouldn’t have allowed children to be used like this, and it only made Greg worry that things were starting to spiral out of their control. Heading back to his office and wanting nothing more than to just go home at this point, Greg frowned at the sight of Donovan looking over a table covered in photos.

          “Problem?” He asked as he walked over to his sergeant’s side, Sally glancing back at him before pulling over one of the photos.

          “The footprint. It’s all he has. A footprint.”

          “Yeah, well, you know what he’s like – CSI Baker Street.” Greg joked with a faint shrug, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of his lips remembering the time he tried to get Mycroft to sit and watch one of the shows with him. It hadn’t ended particularly well, but it certainly had provided an amusing memory for Greg to pull up now and again.

          “Well, our boys couldn’t have done it.” Sally deadpanned, Greg still not seeing the problem with their current situation.

          “Well, that’s why we need him. He’s better.”

          “That’s one explanation.”

          “And what’s the other?” Greg asked, raising an eyebrow towards Donovan, daring her to finish out her thought.

          “Only he could have found that evidence. And then the girl screams her head off when she sees him – a man she has never seen before ... unless she had seen him before.” She challenged, Anderson stepping into the room to stand beside Sally as well, two against one on opposite sides of the table. Greg could feel his heart starting to race, remembering that Mycroft and Sherlock had both warned him that this was going to be a part of what was going to happen, that Moriarty would work to discredit Sherlock and turn the world against him, but it was a different thing entirely when it was happening in front of him.

          “Wh-what’s your point?”

          “You know what my point is. You just don’t want to think about it.” Donovan said with a nod, Greg glancing between two of his highest ranking officers, the ones who on paper were the most qualified, and if it weren’t for Sherlock, he would hold the most trust in. 

          “You’re not seriously suggesting he’s involved, are you?” The DI asked, still trying to hold out hope that this was just some vindictive joke and that they would come around, that this was some stupid office prank to see how flustered they could get their boss before laughing and admitting that they knew this was Moriarty and they would make an even better case against him so that nothing could sink him this time around.

          ”I think we have to entertain the possibility.” Anderson shrugged, Greg looking him in the eye before blinking in shock when he saw how much he truly believed what he was saying. 

          “Fine… fine. I’ll go talk to him. See if he’ll come in for questioning, clear this all up. It wasn’t Sherlock, though, and you all know it.” Greg hissed, jabbing his fingers towards both of his officers before stalking out of the room and towards the lifts.

_ ***** _

          The dust, it was perfect, the right detail that would lead him straight to the bug that Richard had left in his flat. Moving around the room and checking the shelves, over the mantel and then up on his chair, Sherlock heard Lestrade and John enter the room, his attention focused on where the line of dust broke, the corners of his mouth tugging up into a grin as he found it. 

          “No, Inspector.” 

          “What?” Stepping down with the camera in his hands, he looked at the device, wondering when Richard had managed to slip this into his home, how long he had been watching them, watching John. His blood started to boil at the thought. 

          “The answer’s no.” 

          “But you haven’t heard the question!” He didn’t need to, it was obvious, something he had predicted from the very beginning, the doubt that the man was sewing into everyone’s minds. 

          “You want to take me to the station. Just saving you the trouble of asking.” They had to make this convincing, the arrest, the fall, the doubt that everyone would see, at least let Richard think that his plan was unraveling just as he had predicted. He knew that Lestrade was having troubles with this, lying to John, arresting him and letting everyone think he was a fraud, but Mycroft assured him that he had spoken with him, that he had told him why it had to be done, and how it wasn’t safe for John to know all of this just yet. 

          “Sherlock…” 

          “The scream?” 

          “Yeah.” 

          “Who was it? Donovan? I bet it was Donovan.” Her or Anderson, neither of them had ever been fond of him, and if anyone was chomping at the bit to disprove him, it would be one of those two. “Am I somehow responsible for the kidnapping? Ah, Moriarty is smart. He planted that doubt in her head; that little nagging sensation. You’re going to have to be strong to resist. You can’t kill an idea, can you? Not once it’s made a home…” Reaching forward, Sherlock placed his finger on Lestrade’s forehead, right between his eyes. “There,” The talk wasn’t for Lestrade though, no, it was for John, for his partner to hear, to listen, and to take note, hoping that he would never give in and believe Richard’s lies. 

          “Will you come?” Turning away, Sherlock moved to sit at his desk, bringing up the laptop and beginning to type. 

          “One photograph - that’s his next move. Moriarty’s game: First the scream, then a photograph of me being taken in for questioning. He wasn’t to destroy me inch by inch.” Picking up the camera bug, he looks at it again before raising his eyes to look up at Lestrade. “It is a game, Lestrade, and not one I’m willing to play. Give my regards to Sergeant Donovan.” Sherlock watched as the man left, looking back to John who wasn’t saying anything, but in his eyes was the worry and care he had seen before. He had to keep up appearances, make it seem like he wasn't going down without a fight, otherwise John might just see right through this, and he couldn’t risk giving this all away, no matter how much it hurt. 

          Lestrade had left some time ago, but he knew that he would be back, it would only be a matter of time before Sally and Anderson demanded a warrant, especially seeing as neither of them particularly liked him. Sitting in his chair, hands steepled beneath his chin, Sherlock tried to ignore John who had been pacing since the incident, the man now talking on his phone. Actually, he was just nodding and giving small grunts to say yes or no, not really saying much at all. 

          “So, still got some friends on the force. It’s Lestrade. Says they’re all coming over here right now, queuing up to slap on the handcuffs: every single officer you ever made feel like a tit, which is a lot of people.” It wouldn’t be hard to make people doubt him, and Richard had years, centuries even to become the master manipulator that he was, but luckily, they were still one step ahead, and even if John didn’t know it, that phone call from Lestrade was more than just a heads up, it was a reminder that they were still on track. Digging his phone out, he quickly shot off a message to the man, knowing there would have to be a slight change, but that it wasn’t anything the man couldn’t manage. 

> **_John must come with me. Make it happen. -SH_ **
> 
> **How? He won’t go without a fight. -GL**
> 
> **_Then make him fight. -SH_ **
> 
> **And what? Arrest him too? - GL**
> 
> **_Exactly. - SH_ **

*****

          Greg still hated everything that was happening as he pulled up with what felt like half of the police department as they served their warrant for Sherlock, the knowledge that this was still a part of the master plan to take Moriarty down once and for all about the only thing that was keeping him from quitting then and there. Nodding to give the go ahead for them to start, the DI glanced up at the second floor, reminding himself that this was a part of the game and to play his role no matter how much it hurt by the end of it all. Greeting Mrs. Hudson as she opened the door even as Donovan started up the stairs, he almost laughed as she ordered for them not to barge in past her, though Greg’s amusement died the moment he saw John standing guard in the middle of the hall.

          “Have you got a warrant? Have you?”

          “Leave it, John.” Greg warned, finding it strangely easier to slip into his role in the face of actually going through the motions of an arrest. He had been told to make sure that John got down with Sherlock so that they could both run, and if the DI knew his friend, he knew that angering him would make sure that John wouldn’t leave Sherlock’s side. Moving past the doctor, Greg finished his way up the stairs into the sitting room where Sherlock was already awaiting him, his men locking handcuffs around his wrists, though deep down he knew it was just for show as he was sure the detective could probably pick them by the time they were at the base of the stairs. “Sherlock Holmes, I’m arresting you on suspicion of abduction and kidnapping.”

          “He’s not resisting.” John argued, glaring at them all even as Greg sighed in frustration. He hated this just as much as the other, but a quick glance to Sherlock warned him not to break his role.

          “It’s all right, John.” Sherlock assured him, but John was having none of it.

          “He’s not resisting. No, it’s not all right. This is ridiculous.”

          Greg saw his friend’s frustration and his chance to finish out his role in all of this, immediately acting on it as he directed his men to get Sherlock downstairs. Watching as his team coldly took the man out of the room, Greg could only stomach seeing the tears welling up in Mrs. Hudson’s eyes for a moment before he had to look away.

          “You know you don’t have to do…” John started, Greg nearly wanting to yell at him that he really did have to do all of this in order to save their lives, but he had been right in that same position before talking with the Holmes brothers. Instead he redirected that anger back to try and feed John his last bit of instructions, praying that maybe he would get the point that staying up here not doing anything wouldn’t save Sherlock now.

          “Don’t try to interfere, or I shall arrest you too.” Greg warned, his voice harsh before quickly moving to leave the room and head back down to his car to make sure that Sherlock was alright. This was just supposed to be a game, not feeding the man to the wolves who he knew would be only too happy to see the one who had humiliated them all on more than one occasion get arrested.

*****

          “You done?” John turned his attention to Sally, rage boiling in his veins as he looked at the woman, knowing she was the one who had started all of this, had put the idea in Greg’s head. She had been this smug about Sherlock since the day he met her, telling him that one day it wouldn’t be enough for him, not that he had ever believed her, and he still didn’t believe her now. 

          “Oh, I said it. First time we met.” 

          “Don’t bother.” 

          “Solving crimes won’t be enough. One day he’ll cross the line. Now, ask yourself: what sort of man would kidnap those kids just so he can impress us all by finding them.” Mrs. Hudson let out a small gasp, John looking to a larger man now walking into the room, a frown etched deeply on his features as he looked to everyone. 

          “Donovan.” 

          “Sir.” This prick must be the chief, or someone important. Right bastard really, looked full of himself, like he was the most important man in the room. 

          “Got our man?” 

          “Er, yes sir.” 

          “Looked a bit of a weirdo, if you ask me.” As if this whole ordeal wasn’t bad enough, his anger building with Donovan’s smug look, Greg actually going along with all of this and arresting Sherlock, and now this berk… John held his fists at his side as he tried to contain the rage, every word and look from these two making it harder and harder. “Often are, these vigilante types.” That was it, he couldn’t take it anymore, even if it meant he was taken down too. As the larger man turned to face him, he was just waiting for the right moment. “What are you looking at?” John couldn’t even remember the next few seconds as his fist connected with the man’s nose, feeling the crunch under his fingers and the warm liquid now going down the man’s face. 

          Didn’t take long for them to bring him down stairs and shove him against the side of the panda, Sherlock also leaning up against it as the officer pressed his arms harder against his back. 

          “Joining me?” 

          “Yeah. Apparently it’s against the law to chin the Chief Superintendent.” They must not have had another pair of cuffs as the officer unlocked one from Sherlock’s hand and slapped them together, Sherlock looking over his shoulder to the officers. 

          “Hmm. Bit awkward, this.” 

          “Huh. No-one to bail us.” 

          “I was thinking more about our imminent and daring escape.” Sherlock was still looking around, that big brain of his working, John feeling dread run through his stomach as the man was obviously plotting something. 

          “What?” Just as the dispatcher on the radio inside the panda started to talk, Sherlock reached in through the window, pressing down the talk button, the officer behind them doubling over in pain as a high pitched squeal of feedback ripping through their communications line. Then of course he didn’t stop there, the detective reaching behind and pulling the officer’s pistol out, John’s hand yanked upwards as he gasped, his eyes wide in shock as he watched this all unfurl. 

          “Ladies and gentlemen, will you all please get on your knees.” Looking over to Greg, John can see the man looked pissed, a little thrown off guard, but he didn’t seem all that surprised, and maybe, really, he shouldn’t have been either, but when the gun went off above his head, Sherlock firing it twice, he flinched, his heart racing. “Now would be good!” 

          “Do as he says!” Luckily Greg was smart enough to call his boys off, knowing that Sherlock was insane enough at this moment to do it, instead of just going in and letting Mycroft, or someone sort this all out. 

          “Just-just so you’re aware, the fun is his idea. I’m just a… you know…” 

          “My hostage,” Gasping as he felt the cool metal brush against his temple, John held his hands up, his heart beat roaring in his ears. 

          “Hostage! Yes, that works - that works…” They continued to back away, Sherlock directing them around the corner, knowing they didn’t have much time before the cops would be coming after them. “So what now?” 

          “Doing what Moriarty wants - I’m becoming a fugitive. Run.” Turning, he tried to keep up with Sherlock, the man running so fast, his breath coming short as he followed, looking back behind them to see if there was anyone following, not sure where they were going to go, but trusting the other to know how to handle this, and how to get them out of it. 

*****

          “Get after him, Lestrade!” Greg glared at Donovan as she started towards his car, digging his keys out of his pocket as he stepped between the Sergeant and the door. 

          “You are not riding in this car with me. You made this mess, you can stay here and clean it up.” He hissed at her, staring her down until he was sure that Sally wasn’t about to question him before turning and climbing into his car. It was too hard to believe that this was all still a part of Sherlock’s plan, and the Superintendent’s threat against his job was more than unnerving as well. Even though he knew Mycroft had enough pull to make sure that his job would never be in danger because of Sherlock, he still didn’t want it to get to the point that he had to rely on his husbands threats. Waiting until he was a few blocks away in ‘pursuit’ of wherever Sherlock and John had gone off to, Greg did a quick u-turn to head back towards Mycroft’s office while pulling out his mobile. 

          “Holmes.” 

          “Mycroft? Love, I don’t understand what’s going on. I really don’t think this is going to plan in any sort of way. I’m on my way to your office now, just let me see you for a little while, please.”  

          “Gregory, is everything alright? Come in right away, you know you are always welcome to come and see me.” 

          “I know, I just…” Greg sighed, feeling a bit like an idiot for even questioning for a moment if he could see him or not. “Donovan thinks all of this was Sherlock’s doing and now the Superintendent is breathing down my back because they brought everything to him to get a warrant for his arrest, and I tried to warn John because I knew that Sherlock needs him, but he pulled a bloody gun and I’m just… I don’t know.” He sighed, glancing up at the building where he knew Mycroft’s office was, smiling faintly when he saw the light on. “I’m just losing my nerve, My. I know you said to trust that you had a plan, but this doesn’t feel like any sort of plan anymore.” 

          “Love, remember Sherlock told you that Richard intended to make people doubt him, to think that he was the one committing the crimes. It didn’t take much when Donovan has been saying from the start that she thought Sherlock would get bored and that it wouldn’t be enough to just solve crimes. Richard got what he wanted, he put doubt into people’s minds, and we knew this would come. I know it’s hard to believe that this will work out, but we are in the last stretch,” 

          “You keep saying to remember all of this with Sherlock and Richard, but there are other people being affected, My!” Greg snapped, sighing in frustration as he parked before leaning against his wheel. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry. Just seeing John, how protective he is of Sherlock no matter how much or how little he remembers…” He sighed, his frustration turning to anger just because of how helpless he felt. “This doubt against Sherlock is putting my job at risk, it’s hurting John, it’s hurting the Yard, it’s just… tiring, and if I knew what was to come next, I could at least prepare, but I know I’m not supposed to and it hurts so much.” 

          “I know love, this isn’t easy for any of us. I hate not being able to tell you what is about to happen, and it breaks my heart to see how much you are hurting. As far as your job, you know that it will never be an issue, I will never allow them to fire you over something we put into motion.” Greg sighed as he nodded, like Mycroft would have been able to see him, dragging his hand over his face once more as he moved to get out of his car. “John… I know this is hurting him, and I know this is hurting him. I know that this isn’t easy for him or Sherlock, but he will live, and that is what matters most. Richard  _ killed  _ John last time, and Sherlock, and myself, won’t allow that to happen again, we won’t let Richard hard anyone anymore. Now please love, come up here.” 

          “I know my job is safe, My. I just wish it didn’t have to come with your backing, though. I should be able to hold my own job safe…” He frowned, nudging the door closed and starting towards the building. “I know that Richard has to be stopped before he hurts anyone else, but I don’t like that it has to be so… drawn out. I’m heading up now, I’ll see you shortly.” Greg murmured, tucking his mobile into his pocket and relieved when no one stopped him on the way. Anthea offered him a gentle smile as he passed, but Greg simply let himself through instead of stopping to talk, glad to take Mycroft into his arms and bury his face into his chest. “My sun.” 

          “Meum luna et stellas,” Mycroft whispered, pressing a kiss to his head. “I promise, this will be over soon. I’m so sorry to have dragged you through this. I know it’s hard to see the light now, but we are almost at the end, and we will never have to worry about Richard Brook ever again. Instead, we can start our family, get married again, and have our little girl. I love you my heart,” Greg sighed as Mycroft held him close, his heart fluttering as it always did at the idea of their future family, even though it was still partially on hold since they had to defeat this monster first. 

          “I signed up to be a part of this being with you, My. I’ve always done whatever I can to protect Sherlock, and a crazy man isn’t going to stop that. I know that you will be able to make sure that I don’t lose my job, no matter what my arsehole of a superintendent says about him, but it still feels… weird. It felt wrong arresting Sherlock knowing that this is all wrong, that this is all just some horrible game against everyone to ruin Sherlock and that I’m supposed to go along with it. I know you have a plan but God it doesn’t feel like anything’s going along with it, sweetheart. What’s the next part that I’m supposed to do? Where do I go from here?” There was brief hesitation from Mycroft, his partner nodding after a few moments, those lips pressed into a thin line. 

          “You will be placed on suspension, but just for a brief amount of time, I assure you. I know it will be hard, but I will be here, and I have everything in place to make sure your record is clean, and your job is secure. The last step is for Sherlock to meet with Richard, where he will try and convince my brother that he has nothing left but to be with him. I can’t give you any more than that, but know that we are on the cusp of finally having this under control. It has been far too long, and I wish it hadn’t gone on for as long as it did, but it will be finished.” Greg felt a cold wave of fear wash over him at the thought of being on suspension, even though he trust Mycroft to keep his position safe and knowing full well that nothing he had done in the past couple of years that he had known Sherlock would truly get him in trouble since all the major cases had involved the superintendent signing off on them anyway. Still he couldn’t help but feel it was a personal attack against him, knowing he wasn’t the only detective or D.I. who went to Sherlock for help on cases, yet he was the only one facing retaliation for it. Melting into the kiss that Mycroft gave him, Greg allowed for that moment to push away all the doubts and frustration he felt just for a moment, reminding himself that for the hell he was going through, it was nothing compared to Sherlock and it would be worth it in the end to make sure that everyone was safe, not just himself and John. 

          “I should go back and at least pretend that I’m searching for Sherlock. I would like to keep that suspension only for stupid reasons and not that I did actually abandon my job.” 

          “Gregory, the suspension is only pending investigation, completely normal, and will have no affect on your record or your standing. They will find nothing to go against you, my word, and that is not just because I have cleaned the books. You are brilliant officer, and always have been, even before Sherlock came to help. I’m just sorry it had to come to all of this,” Giving into one last kiss and a tight hug, as leaned into Mycroft’s touch as the man ran his thumb along his cheek. “Now, get out there my dashing husband.” The word sparked a flame in him, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he gave one last glance to his loving partner before turning and heading back out. 

*****

          How long were they going to have to sit in the dark, chained together, running from the police? Honestly, John thought Sherlock would have had a better plan than to break into a reporter's home and wait until she gets there, so they could go on record and maybe clear their name. Sighing, John slouched, the handcuffs chaffing his wrist, closing his eyes and almost falling asleep, that was until the door opened and he sat straight up, staring at the woman who just walked in, turning on the lights. 

          “Too late to go on the record?” The woman didn’t seem too surprised that they were in here, instead she took all of it really well, moving into the flat, shutting the door and setting her things down.   
“Well, more pressing, do you have a hairpin by chance? This whole handcuffed to him thing is not doing it for me,” John sighed, realising that getting her to write the article at near ten at night, after two strangers had just picked their way in… wait… if Sherlock could pick the door lock, why couldn’t he have just undone their handcuffs. Kitty didn’t seem to mind, quickly grabbing on and handing it over, Sherlock quickly snatching it up, the both of them standing in the middle of the room while she took a seat in the armchair, watching both of them with wide eyes. 

          “Congratulations. The truth about Sherlock Holmes.” Rolling his eyes, John sighed and look to the woman with an apologetic look, always feeling like he was apologising for whatever ridiculous thing Sherlock had said or done. There was a soft click and the man had freed his hand from the cuff, and instead of unlocking his, Sherlock just handed him the hairpin and started to pace, the action just making him even more irritated. “The scoop that everybody wanted and you got it. Bravo.” 

          “I gave you your opportunity. I wanted to be on your side, remember? You turned me down, so…” 

          “And then, behold, someone turns up and spills all the beans. How utterly convenient. Who is Brook?” John frowned as he looked to the other, not sure why he was asking who Brook was, they all knew, didn’t they? Richard Brook, a.k.a James Moriarty? Sherlock didn’t know that he had remembered the start of that strange history, but he knew the man knew exactly who Richard Brook was. Kitty on the other hand, refused to say anything, holding firm to her resolve. “Oh, come on, Kitty. No-one trusts the voice at the end of a telephone.” Rubbing his wrist as he finally got the cuff off, John tossed the offending item to the side before looking over to the two others in the room. “There are all those furtive little meetings in cafes; those sessions in the hotel room where he gabbled into your dictaphone. How do you know that you can trust him? A man turns up with the Holy Grail in his pockets. What were his credentials?” Before John could step in and apologise, yet again for Sherlock’s…. Bluntness, there was a sound of the door unlocking, someone coming in. Kitty got to her feet in a hurry, a concerned look on her face as they turned to face and see who was walking through the door, John’s stomach dropping when the last person he expected to see walked in. 

          “Darling, they didn’t have any ground coffee so I just got normal…” That fear and horror turned to anger as he looked to Richard, his features tugging into a frown as his fists tightened at his side. That bastard was doing his best acting as well, those eyes widened and the man dropping his shopping bag, backing up and into the wall behind him as if he was terrified of them. “You said that they wouldn’t find me here. You said that I’d be safe here.” 

          “You are safe, Richard. I’m a witness. He wouldn’t harm you in front of witnesses.” 

          “So that’s your source? Moriarty is Richard Brook?!” Yes, the man was really Richard Brook, had been since… well he still wasn’t sure what year that memory was from, just knew it had been hundreds of years, but he was  _ also  _ Moriarty, at least in the sense of this century. Directing his glare back to the man in question, John scowled, his teeth bared, his breathing heavy as he tried to keep himself from jumping the other. 

          "Of course he’s Richard brook. There is no Moriarty. There never has been.” It was the perfect cover. There really wasn’t a James Moriarty, at least, not since the real one had died, but no one would ever look back that far because the man here couldn’t possibly have lived back then and still be here now. That wasn’t something they could let out, and it wasn’t a conversation he was ready to have with Sherlock either. 

          “What are you talking about?” He gritted through his teeth, the woman looking so smug. 

“Look him up. Rich Brook - an actor Sherlock Holmes hired to be Moriarty.” Sherlock was awfully silent through this whole bit, but of course he knew the same things he did, and honestly, there wasn’t a lot they could say, and Sherlock had said that Richard would do this, to ruin his reputation, to make people doubt him, and as they had no way to prove who this man really was, as no one could really prove who any of these immortals were, they were stuck. 

          “Doctor Watson, I know you’re a good man.” Looking back to the cowering bastard in the corner, Richard moved to the corner, appearing terrified of him, which he knew was a joke, the man only wanted him out of the picture. “Don’t… don’t h-… Don’t hurt me.” 

          “No, you are Moriarty!” John snapped, screaming at the man and pointing to him, his hands shaking as he turned to look at Kitty. “He’s Moriarty!” His attention was back on Richard, holding himself back from hitting the man, as he was feeling rather violent and physical tonight. “We’ve met, remember? You were going to blow me up!” 

          “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. He paid me. I needed the work. I’m an actor. I was out of work. I’m sorry okay?” Sherlock was a dick, but he wouldn’t ever stoop this low. The man wanted to show off, to solve the puzzles and receive praise because of something he actually did, he would never just hire someone to make a puzzle for him, that would be boring. 

          “Sherlock, you’d better… explain… because I am not getting this.” What he should have said was that he didn’t know how to get it through to this woman that Richard and Moriarty were the same person, that he was setting this all up, and that she was being played. 

          “Oh I’ll… I’ll be doing the explaining - in print. It’s all here - conclusive proof.” Again with this woman, Kitty handing him a folder with the typed sheet for her upcoming article. “You invented James Moriarty, your nemesis.” 

          “Invented him?” She had to be kidding, well, she should be kidding, but of course she wasn’t, and this was just more and more irritating. 

          “Mmm-hmm. Invented all the crimes, actually - and to cap it all, you made up a master villain.” 

          “Oh, don’t be ridiculous!” 

          “Ask him. He’s right here! Just ask him. Tell him, Richard.” 

          “Look, for God’s sake, this man was on trial!” They didn’t put fake people on trial, and there wasn’t a way to fake or hire an actor to break into the Tower, Bank and Prison!

          “Yes… and you paid him; paid him to take the rap. Promised you’d rig the jury.” Snorting, John watched as she turned her attention to Sherlock, pointing to him as the man stood in silence. “Not exactly a West End role, but I’ll be the money was good.” Kitty walked over to Richard, putting her arm around his shoulder while he still held his hands up in defense. “But not so good he didn’t want to sell his story.” 

          “I am sorry. I am. I am sorry.” This was bull shit, and he wasn’t buying it, never would. 

          “So-So this is the story that you’re going to publish. The big conclusion of it all: Moriarty’s an actor?!” Would anyone really believe that? She had sure… but would the general public, after watching him go on trial?

          “He knows I am. I have proof. I have proof. Show him, Kitty! Show him something!” 

          “Yeah, show me something.” That would be interesting, what could he possibly have. After a few seconds, Kitty walked across the room, Richard staying in the corner, and John turning to watch her as she reached into her bag for something, supposedly proof. 

          “I’m on TV. I’m on kids’ TV. I’m the Storyteller.” Looking at the copies of Richard’s contact details, from some agency website, then a newspaper article showing a picture of Richard in glasses and medical scrubs? “I’m… I’m the storyteller. It’s on DVD.” How long had Richard been planning this? He knew that it had been a long time since the man had lost his mind, but this… this was extensive. “Just tell him. It’s all coming out now. It’s all over. Just tell them. Just tell them. Tell him!” Sherlock had been silent and reserved this whole time, but when Richard started shouting, his temper changed, walking towards him, his teeth bared. “It’s all over now… NO!” Watching in horror and disgust as Richard backed away, stumbling up the flight of stairs, his eyes wide and terrified, his acting rather good, which only made him angrier as it made his story more believable. “Don’t you touch me! Don’t you lay a finger on me!” 

          “Stop it. Stop it NOW!” 

          “Don’t hurt me!” Richard ran up the stairs, Sherlock chasing after him and John sighing as he followed. 

          “Don’t let him get away!” 

          “Leave him alone!” Kitty shouted after them, Richard rushing into the bathroom and slamming the door shut, Sherlock struggling to open it as he shoved it open. Clenching his teeth, John frowned as he saw the window open and the room empty, of course. 

          “No, no, no. He’ll have back-up.” Passing him by, they were both stopped by Kitty at the bottom of the stairs, the woman looking still irritatingly smug. 

          “D’you know what, Sherlock Holmes? I look at you now and I can read you, and you… repel… me.” Sherlock passed by her, heading out the door, John still holding the folder as he shoved passed her too, heading out towards the street and after Sherlock. 

          “Can he do that? Completely change his identity; make you the criminal?” No one was going to believe that, right? He just needed Sherlock to say it, that this was ridiculous. 

          “He’s got my whole life story. That’s what you do when you sell a big lie; you wrap it up in the truth to make it more palatable.” 

          “Your word against his.” 

          “He’s been sowing doubt into people’s minds for the last twenty-four hours. There’s only one thing he needs to do to complete his game, and that’s to…” Rifling through the folder, John looked up when Sherlock trailed off, the man facing away from him now.

          “Sherlock?”

          “Something I need to do.” It was like his whole demeanour had changed, as if none of the past few hours had actually happened.

          “What? Can I help?” 

          “No - on my own.” That was that, Sherlock walking off, leaving him on his own yet again, with a handful of fake papers, needing to figure out where he could go as he was now wanted for assaulting the chief superintendent and running away with a wanted suspect. Sighing, he shoved the papers under his arm and headed out, not sure where he was going just yet, but planning on figuring that out soon. 

*****

          Sighing as she made her way out of the room adjacent to the lab, Molly switched off the lights, ready to head home for the evening. It had been a long day, and an even longer week, and all she wanted right now was to be home with her cat, watching a good film and eating some ice cream. Walking across the darkened lab, she reached the door, her hand almost to the handle before that familiar, deep voice came from behind her. 

          “You’re wrong, you know.” Gasping, she spun around, pressing up against the door and frowning as she looked up towards Sherlock, anger boiling in her as she wanted to just hit the man as he knew exactly what he was doing. “You do count. You’ve always counted and I’ve always trusted you.” Frowning, the anger simmered down as she listened to what he said, her heart almost fluttering. “But you were right. I’m not okay.” 

          “Tell me what’s wrong.” It was almost too fast how quickly she responded, but if the man was admitting that he needed help, it must be bad. 

          “Molly, I think I’m going to die.” Swallowing hard, her heart sank as she saw the pain in his expression, the sadness that swam in his eyes. 

          “What do you need?” 

          “If I wasn’t everything that you think I am - everything that I think I am - would you still help me?” He had been walking closer to her and now was inches away, just looking down at her with those stormy blue eyes. 

          “What do you need.” 

          “You.” 

          Molly gave a small nod in agreement as she turned back on the lights and lead the way back to her desk, taking out two note pads and handing one over to Sherlock not knowing what she was getting herself into but knowing they would both need to be taking notes on it. Listening closely to Sherlock’s plan and making notes about what paperwork would need to be drawn up and what lab equipment would need to be stashed away and where, Molly couldn’t help but return to the same set of questions that constantly nagged at the back of her mind. 

          “You’re not actually going to die, are you?” She finally asked, fidgeting with her pen before setting it down and tucking her hands into her lap as she searched for the right words to say what she wanted to. “Jim… said a lot of things. Crazy things, which I guess aren’t so crazy after all, from what you’ve told me. That… that you’re immortal, and that you can’t die unless you’re completely destroyed. So… falling from the roof won’t really kill you, right?” Molly pressed, looking up at Sherlock for confirmation before returning to her notes, quiet for a while longer before speaking up again. “He also said that… that if an immortal fell in love with a mortal, and could get them to love them deep enough, then they would become immortal as well. That they would become their mate and they would never be alone again. But… that’s John, isn’t it? For you? Greg and Mycroft, you and John. Why is he so obsessed with you? This is more than a game anymore, I know it is. But why?”

          “I might. It is possible for immortals to die, just very difficult. That is why I need your help, Molly. If one thing goes wrong, it won’t just be my life he takes. He will come for everyone I care about.” Never once did she think this was the sort of mess she would get herself wrapped up in, and there were obviously details that she hadn’t been told, now that Sherlock was opening up to her. “His real name is Richard Brook. I have known him for a very long time, and his  _ real  _ mate’s name was James. Moriarty. James was burned at the stake during the witch trials in Europe. Some of what Richard has told you is true, immortals do fall in love, they have one person that comes back to them, life after life, but it has nothing to do with loving them deep enough. Greg is immortal now because he was finally able to unlock all his memories from all of his lives dating back to Rome, with Mycroft. That is how it is done. To get John to stay, he has to remember everything as well, but we only get one, and we don’t get to choose. Richard seems to think you can choose and make anyone immortal, but that’s not how it works. Something happened the night James died, and he thinks that I am his mate and that’s why he’s immortal. No matter how many times I have told him that isn’t so, he won’t listen, and I think something broke when he watched James go up in flames. It was very… traumatic, for all of us.” Molly blinked in shock as Sherlock explained everything about immortals, opening her mouth a few times in confusion as she looked back down at the plans they had sorted out between them, hesitantly reaching out and making a few small notes to the side as she tried to figure out what to say. 

          “That was… what, 1600? He’s been doing this for some four hundred years?” She finally asked, not even trying to sort out the fact that Mycroft and Greg had been around in some way since ancient Rome. “As long as you’re able to land on the mat, your immortality can act as our buffer in case you don’t hit perfectly. I’ll log the post-mortem and have your brother identify the body. I won’t be able to look John in the eye after this, though… just as long as everything goes right.” 

          “I have to convince him to end his life on that roof. He wants me to jump, to end it all, completely discredit myself, because if he can’t be with me, then no one can. I will signal once he’s dead, nothing too obvious as I will still need to jump, show that I am dead if I want a chance to be able to take out his network and not have them see me coming. I will also need a way out of Bart’s, covert, as no one can know that I still live beyond those few who are helping.

          “I’ll have you brought in to the morgue, then we can have you taken out of the basement door. That’s the same way we take the bodies out in order to not upset anyone,” Molly quickly offered, trying to get back on topic even if it was horrifically mobid, even for her. 

          “Molly, if I cannot convince him, if Richard lives and he demands I jump, threatening John somehow, I need you to do something for me, and I don’t ask this lightly…” Frowning, she blinked before feeling the blood drain from her face. 

          “I couldn’t… I can’t…” She stuttered, swallowing nervously as thoughts raced on what she might be asked to do, chewing her lip. “What… what do you want me to do?” 

          “You have to let me jump, no protection in place. There is a good chance I will not make it, but there is also a possibility that I might. I would be severely injured, in which case I will need immediate care and attention, as well as someone to keep John away and safe, but you have to let me jump…” Molly swallowed thickly as she nodded, trying to think of what could be done that no one would notice, but would be just enough to keep him from dying. 

          “Protect your head with your arms, take the impact with them first, or if you can, land on your legs and roll.” She offered softly, not sure of what else to say. “But hopefully, it won’t come to that. It feels horrible to hope for someone else to die… even if he is a psychopath. Why can’t you just take John’s gun with you? Shoot him yourself? If it’s you or him, can’t you defend yourself?” Molly asked suddenly, praying that she wouldn’t have to actually log her friend's death. “We’ll figure this out, though, without you having to do… that.” 

          “I cannot kill him. It’s against the immortal code, not to mention the web he has set up, I am sure that if I did such a thing, they would come for me, and worse, come for those I care about. No, it has to be by his own hand.” Sherlock shook his head, standing and pacing about the room. “Get everything in place and let me know. I will stay here until then, and bring Richard to us.” Molly watched as Sherlock headed towards the door, silent as she swallowed hard. “And Molly… thank you.” Looking to him, her heart heavy, she gave him a small nod, watching him leave before letting out a sigh, wondering if she really was the right person to be doing all of this for him. 

  
  



	44. XLIII

          Tapping his foot to the beat, Richard Brook sat on the ledge at the edge of the roof, St. Barts where Sherlock had said to meet him, the sunlight warming his skin as he waited. He had made sure to wear his smartest suit and overcoat, slicking his hair back just so, so he would look his best for when the Sherlock finally arrived and came to his senses and realized that there was little use in fighting or running away from him anymore.

          “Ah. Here we are at last - you and me, Sherlock, and our problem - the final problem.” Richard wasn’t going to seem desperate, and instead of watching as Sherlock walked up onto the roof he held up the phone, the Bee Gee’s ‘Stayin’ Alive’ playing from the speakers. “Stayin’ alive! It’s so boring, isn’t it?” How long had they been alive now? Centuries, millennia for Sherlock? What was the point though when he couldn’t be with the one he was supposed to be, when Sherlock insisted on spending his time with that stupid little mortal John who just kept dying, and dying, and dying. Even after he had killed him and Sherlock seemed to have finally given up on that ridiculous little pet of his, the man still didn’t come to him. What was a man to do? Frowning and letting out a small growl of frustration, Richard switched off the phone when it was obvious that Sherlock didn’t share his same taste in situational music. “It’s just…” Holding his hand out flat with his pal down, he moved it slowly through the air, level with the roof. “Staying. All my life, my lives, I’ve been searching for distractions. You were the best distraction and now I don’t even have you. Because of that stupid John. But not anymore, because I’ve beaten you.” Richard knew the rules of the game, this final problem of theirs, mainly because he had written half of them himself. If he couldn’t have Sherlock this time around, then no one would, and he was going to make sure of that tonight even if that meant he had to be ready to give up everything as well. But after so many years of living and doing nothing, having _nothing,_ he was ready to end it all if that meant getting back at the man who wouldn’t give him anything. “And you know what? In the end it was easy.” Sherlock had been pacing, his head turning sharply towards him when he say how he had beaten him, now stopping and folding his hands behind his back as he stared him down. “It was easy. Now I’ve got to go back to playing with the ordinary people, and it turns out you’re ordinary just like all of them. Oh well.” Lowering his head again, Richard rubbed his face before looking back up at the man, standing and walking closer, pacing around the detective. “Did you almost start to wonder if I was real? Did I nearly get you?”

          “Richard Brook.” A smile creeped up on his lips as he looked to Sherlock, continuing to circle him.

          “Nobody seems to get the joke, but you do.”

          “Of course.”

          “Attaboy.”

          “Rich Brook in German is Reichen Back - the case that made my name.” Richard of course had set the whole thing up, having stolen the painting, thinking it too perfect of a play on his original name, the one he had abandoned years ago when it no longer suited him, instead taking up the name that made him recognisable in the eyes of his detective, _James Moriarty._

          “Just tryin’ to have some fun.” Continuing to walk around Sherlock, Richard looked down at the man’s hand, noting that he was tapping out a rhythm with his fingers. Silly him, he had almost forgotten about that little play during their small tea time. “Good. You got that too.” Richard drawled, curious to see just where Sherlock was going to take that since he looked so proud of himself in that moment.  

          “Beats like digits. Every beat is a one; every rest is a zero. Binary code. That’s why all those assassins tried to save my life. It was hidden on me; hidden inside my head - a few simple lines of computer code that can break into any system.” It was just like Sherlock to overthink things. It was adorable, and that was exactly why he had tapped out that simple beat that really had nothing to do with code, but he knew the man would put meaning to it.

          “I told all my clients: last one to Sherlock is a sissy.”

          “Yes, but now that it’s up here, I can use it to alter all the records. I can kill Rich Brook and Jim Moriarty.” Pausing, Richard looked up at Sherlock, disappointed that the man actually believed he had to the code to unlock anything and solve all their problems. Turning away, he sighed, shaking his head. Maybe after all this time Sherlock’s mind had started to slip with age. Which was quite unfortunate, seeing as that was his most attractive quality.

          “No, no, no, no, no, this is too easy. This is too easy.” Running his hands over his face and letting out a groan, Richard turned back to Sherlock, his expression angry as the heat boiled in his veins. “There is no key, DOOFUS!” Walking closer he screamed it into Sherlock’s face, the man barely flinching. Was it really that hard of a puzzle that he had laid out? “Those digits are meaningless, they’re utterly meaningless. You don’t really think a couple of lines of computer code are going to crash the world around our ears? I’m disappointed.” Turning away, he walked across the roof, frustrated that this last meeting of theirs wasn’t going according to plan. Maybe Sherlock was just playing hard to get again? Playing stupid for him? Stupid. “I’m disappointed in you, ordinary Sherlock.”

          “But the rhythm…”

          “Partita number one.” Thank you, Johann Sebastian Bach, which Sherlock really should have seen when they were talking about musicians during their little tea party. He had literally fed it to him and yet he was still sitting here foundering. This should have been children’s play for them!

          “But then how did…”

          “Then how did I break into the Bank, to the Tower, to the Prison?” Turning, Richard spread his arms wide, basking in the glory of the big reveal. Oh it was always so glorious when everyone thought it was so hard when really the best plans were the simplest. “Daylight robbery. All it takes is some willing participants. It was easy to manipulate mortals with the promise of immortality,” He added, something he had always used when getting what he wanted, a key that had been very useful in his success when others fear their end. “I knew you’d fall for it. That’s your weakness - you always want everything to be clever. Now, shall we finish the game? One final act. Glad you chose a tall building - nice way to do it.”

          “Do it? Do - do what?” It took Sherlock a moment, but Richard could see the exact second in time when he finally understood what they were really up here for. “Yes, of course. My suicide.”

          “Genius detective proved to be a fraud. I read it in the paper, so it must be true. I love newspapers. Fairytales.” He watched as Sherlock walked to the edge of the roof and leaned forward, looking over the side to the ground below. Moving to stand beside him, Richard looked over, admiring the view and the height, knowing it was going to take quite the fall to gain enough force when the man’s skull met the ground to actually kill him. “And pretty Grimm ones too.”

          “I can still prove that you created an entirely false identity.” Sighing, Richard rolled his eyes as Sherlock kept going on about his not so made up identity, as if he could get out of this spectacular web that he had spent so long on weaving.

          “Which one? The false Richard Brook or the false Jim Moriarty? Oh, just kill yourself. It’s a lot less effort... Go on. For me?” Sherlock turned away, pacing as if that magnificent mind of his could come up with a quick solution that he hadn’t already accounted for. “Pleeeasssee?” In a quick movement that Richard hadn’t quite seen coming, Sherlock grabbed him by the collar of his coat, spinning them around so that Richard’s back was to the drop and shoved him closer to the edge.

          “You’re insane.”

          “You’re just getting that now?” Richard laughed, pushing the man’s buttons even further, Sherlock backing them up so he was leaning over the ledge. Holding his hands out wide and looking to the other with interest, he let out a small shout of triumph as he saw that fire he loved flare up in the detective's eyes. “Okay, let me give you a little extra incentive.” A frown creased Sherlock’s face, Richard adding a little more aggression to his voice for theatrics, as well as to prove the point that no matter what, he still had the upper hand. “Your friends will die if you don’t.”

          “John.” Of course that would be the man’s first though, that insignificant disgusting mortal, the bane of his existence. Except this time, he planned to go further, as John just kept coming back. He was going to take everything from Sherlock if he wouldn’t agree to be with him, those he knew wouldn’t come back again.

          “Everyone.”

          “Mrs. Hudson.”

          “Everyone.” Richard whispered, a delighted smile playing across his features as Sherlock was finally realizing just how serious he had become this time in little game of cat and mouse.

          “Lestrade,” There were all the names Richard had expected to hear, everything he had accounted for.

          “Three bullets; three gunmen; three victims. There’s no stopping them now.” Sherlock pulled him back to safety, letting him go and Jim straightening out his suit. “Unless my people see you jump. You can have me arrested; you can torture me; you can do anything you like with me; but nothing’s going to prevent them from pulling the trigger. Your only three friends in the world will die… unless... “

          “Unless I kill myself - complete your story.” Nodding, Richard smiled ecstatically, glad the man finally understood, finally saw the solution to their problem.

          “Or you return to me. You’ve got to admit that’s sexier.” He offered, through Sherlock hardly blinked.

          “And I die, in disgrace.”

          “Of course. That’s the point of this.” Richard sighed, annoyed that Sherlock wasn’t biting but he had expected that after hundreds of years of trying to get him back. Looking off the side of the roof, he quite the collection of people gathering below them, more than he had expected for this time of day, but hey, the more the merrier. “Oh, you’ve got an audience now. Off you pop. Go on.” Watching, Sherlock slowly stepped past him, up towards the ledge, standing on it and looking down. “I told you how this ends. Your decision or your death is the only thing that’s going to call of the killers. I’m certainly not going to do it.” Looking back up at the detective, he watches, the man shaking.

          “Would you give me… one moment, please; one moment of privacy? Please?” Sighing, Richard rolled his eyes shrugging his shoulders.

          “Of course.” Moving away, he walked around, giving Sherlock a moment to himself, trying to decide if he was going to keep his word and stop just with this man, or if he was still going to destroy his friends and family even if he did jump just to get back at Mycroft as well, but that was a decision he could make later on. His thoughts were derailed as soon as he heard a chuckle coming from Sherlock, spinning around, his expression livid as he looked at the man. “What!?” This was more infuriating than the man being rather boring, no part of his plan involving anything that Sherlock would find amusing in any way. “What is it?” Sherlock half turned on the ledge, smiling towards him as Richard glared back. “What did I miss?” The detective hopped down off the ledge, walking closer to him now with the same air of assuredness that Richard always held himself with, that air that had made him fall for Sherlock from the start, that air that would be attractive even now if it wasn’t for the fact that it was being used against him.

          “‘You’re not going to do it,’ So the killers can be called off, then - there’s a recall code or word, or a number. I don’t have to die… if I’ve got you.”

          “Oh!” That was it, that was all Sherlock thought he had? Laughing, Richard felt a bit of relief wash over him, knowing that he had a backup for that, since he knew Sherlock wasn’t about to truly come back to him. “You think you can make me stop the order? You think you can make me do that?”

          “Yes. So do you.”

          “Sherlock, your big brother and all the King’s horses couldn’t make me do a thing I didn’t want to.” Sherlock was far closer than Richard had expected, in his face with a smug smirk on his own though Richard was content to simply stare him back in the eye.

          “Yes, but I’m not my brother, remember? I am you - prepared to do anything; prepared to burn; prepared to do what ordinary people won’t do. You want me to shake hands with you in hell? I shall not disappoint you.” Maybe the man had actually figured out his plan, was going to go down with him to save his friends. Shaking his head, he pursed his lips, not believing that Sherlock would actually do that.

          “Naah, you talk big. Naah, you’re ordinary. You’re ordinary - you’re on the side of the angels.”

          “Oh, I may be on the side of the angels, but don’t think for one second that I am one of them.”

          “No, you’re not.” Blinking slowly, Richard smiled and opened his eyes once more to stare down his opponent, knowing what he needed to do now. He was never going to get Sherlock back, but the man was convinced that he had found the way out, which meant that he would get what he wanted in the end even if he wasn’t around to see it. “I see. You’re not ordinary. No... You’re me. You’re me! Thank you!” Lifting his hand to move and embrace Sherlock, Richard reigned himself back in, deciding now was not the time to give in just yet, instead lowered it to offer a handshake instead. “Sherlock Holmes.” Of course the detective would take it, that was what he was counting on. “Thank you. _Bless_ you. As long as I’m alive, you can save your friends; you’ve got a way out. Well, good luck with that,” Richard said as he tightened his grip around Sherlock’s hand, making sure he wouldn’t be able to stop what he was about to do next. This was the end, this was the back up he had, knowing that it would most likely come to this, and he had accepted that fact. It would be over soon, his years and years of torture, years of waiting and playing, over, and Sherlock would have no choice but to join him when he realised it would be the only way to save his precious mortals. Opening his mouth wide, he pulled the man closer one last time, reaching into his waistband and grabbing the pistol he had stashed for just such occasion, raising it to his mouth. Goodbye, Sherlock.

*****

          This was it, this was what it had all been leading to, and Richard had fell right into his trap, ready to end it all. Pulling back, he watched as the man stuck the muzzle of his pistol into his mouth and pulled the trigger, the damage destroying his brain as he collapsed to the roof, blood trickling across the roof under the man’s head. Snipers hadn’t been a part of his original plan, but then again, none of this had all those years ago. It was a good thing that he had Molly in the wind, there to back him up just incase something like this had happened, that he would need to jump to try and convince Richard, and so now, he had to jump, to perform. Slowly turning towards the edge of the building, he stepped up onto the ledge, looking down towards the ground and seeing that all of the pieces were coming together, his homeless network all present, everyone ready and looking to him, knowing that he just had to give the signal, and all it would be, was holding out his hand towards John, and at that point, everyone would get to work. Taking out his mobile, he presses the single button needed, the speed dial to the one number that mattered most.

          “Hello?”

          “John.”

          “Hey, Sherlock, you okay?” That concern, he knew that tone well, something he had heard plenty over the centuries with that man.

          “Turn around and walk back the way you came now.”

          “No, I’m coming in.”

          “Just do as I ask, please.” John couldn’t come any closer, he had to listen, his life depended on it, and so did the two others under the snipers watch. Thankfully John turned back around, a scared look on his face, but he listened.

          “Where?” Swallowing hard, his chest felt tight as he knew this next bit was going to hurt, not just because he wasn’t going to see John for however long this might take, but because he was going to hurt John, damage him, and even though he didn’t want to, and wished there were another way, it was the only way to let him live.

          “Stop there.”

          “Sherlock?”

          “Okay, look up. I’m on the rooftop.” He watched as the man turned towards him, his face filling with horror, and the tears starting to prick at the back of his eyes.

          “Oh God.”

          “I- I… I can’t come down, so we’ll… we’ll just have to do it like this.” His voice cracked as he spoke, his throat tight as the tears started to spill down his cheeks, knowing the horrible pain he was about to inflict.

          “What’s going on?”

          “An apology. It’s all true.” John would never believe it, at least his heart hoped that the man would never believe that lie, but he had to put on a show for Richard’s henchmen that were positioned somewhere in the shadows.

          “Wh-what?”

          “Everything they said about me. I invented Moriarty.” Looking around behind him, he had to check again just because he felt a bit worried that maybe this was all a game, that Richard was going to stand up, not be dead, somehow survive that massive blow to his head, but the man was still laying in a pool of blood, that grin plastered on his face.

          “Why are you saying this?” Turning his attention back to John, he could feel the lump in his throat rise.

          “I’m a fake,” Sherlock’s voice cracked, the tears racing down his cheek, blurring his vision as he looked down to John, his heart fluttering as he knew the man wasn’t buying a word he was saying.

          “Sherlock…”

          “The newspapers were right all along. I want you to tell Lestrade; I want you to tell Mrs. Hudson,” All of those the man was targeting, he needed to make sure they were safe, plus he knew his brother would be listening in to this phone call, and he would understand what he meant by it and take the precautions to make sure they were all safe. “And Molly… in fact, tell anyone who will listen to you that I created Moriarty for my own purposes.”

          “Okay. Shut up, Sherlock, shut up. The first time we met… the first time we met, you knew all about my sister, right?”

          “Nobody could be that clever.”

          “You could.” Letting out a soft chuckle, he looked down from his perch, the tears dripping from his chin.

          “I researched you. Before we met I discovered everything that I could to impress you. It’s a trick. Just a magic trick.” John still wasn’t buying it, he could tell, the man closing his eyes and shaking his head.

          “No. All right, stop it now.” Sherlock’s heart sank when the man started walking towards the hospital entrance.

          “No, stay exactly where you are! Don’t move!” There was a sense of urgency in his voice, desperation even, knowing that if John took a few more steps, he would see this was all a fake, and he would expose his plan, effectively letting the snipers know what was going on and endanger them all. He let out a breath of relief though, when John backed up, holding his hand up in surrender as he looked up at him.

          “All right.” Breathing ragged, Sherlock decided that now, now was the time to give the signal, to have all his network work together, to put everything in motion, so he stretched out his hand towards John, a last gesture to the man, and a signal to everyone else.

          “Keep your eyes fixed on me. Please, will you do this, for me?”

          “Do what?”

          “This phone call - it’s, er… it’s my note. It’s what people do, don’t they - leave a note?” Even from this distance he could see the pain in his partner's eyes as the man shook his head, lowering the phone momentarily and panicking, before raising it again, his voice now shaky.

          “Leave a note when?”

          “Goodbye John.” Tossing his phone to the side, he looked down at John for a few more seconds, giving everyone the last few moments necessary to place the cushion for his fall, and spreading his arms to either side of him, trying to block out John’s cries as he leaned forward and fell off the building. The sensation of falling was short lived, the breath knocked out of him as he hit the cushion, knowing he had to recover quickly as they only had a minute before John would be at his side, those in his homeless network working on delaying him as long as they could, but it still wouldn’t be very long. Groaning as he rolled off, Sherlock stumbled over to those waiting to rough him up, waiting till the cushion was gone before laying on the ground, a small rubber ball under his arm to stop his pulse, his help pouring the blood over his face as he lay there, focusing on keeping his breathing low, all his pulse points covered except the one, and John’s voice calling out.

          “I’m a doctor, let me come through. Let me come through, please,” It had been a bad idea, to keep his eyes open, but he just wanted to see his partner one last time before he would be gone for years, even if it was the face of pain and sorrow, he still needed to see him, to know he was safe. “No, he’s my friend. He’s my friend, please.” As predicted, John reached down and took ahold of his wrist, feeling for his pulse, and he was given just enough time to see there wasn’t one before a woman pulled him off, moving him away as others arrived with the stretcher to take him away. “Please, let me just… Jesus, no… God, no.” Staying as lifeless as he could, he was lifted onto the stretched and then rapidly wheeled into the hospital, his view of John gone now, Sherlock’s eyes closing as he just needed a moment, the tears threatening to come back again having seen the pain in his lovers eyes. John was safe… at least for now, and that was what matter most, at least, that was what was going to keep him going for the next years, hoping he could just repair the damage he inflicted when the time came, that John would come back to him.

*****

          “Get him inside now,” Molly ushered, directing the homeless crew that Sherlock had hired, her heart stalling for just a moment as she saw the man laid out on a stretcher, the blood bright on his face as he lay deathly still. Once the doors were closed and he was inside where no one could see, she laid a hand on his shoulder, her voice soft. “You did it, Sherlock, he’s gone. You can move now, no one’s here…” Sherlock gasped for breath, struggling to sit up and burying his face in his hands, Molly flinching at the face he pulled when he felt the blood on his skin.

          “There... There were snipers. John, Lestrade, Mrs. Hudson. Keep an eye on them for me, would you? They-they can’t know about any of this or they’ll die. Keep them safe for me, would you? Please?” A gasp escaped her lips as Sherlock mentioned the snipers, her heart pounding as she thought about John, already in such pain, and poor Mrs. Hudson, that sweet lady… and Greg. Nodding her head quickly, she wasn’t quite sure what she would do to keep them safe, but she knew that a good place to start would be talking with Mycroft.

          “Your brother… he would be able to do that right? He can know?” She asked, starting to pace around the room as she tried to think of another solution. “ I mean, your brother has a whole department dedicated to security, surely he can make sure they are safe until you have taken out the threat…” Turning to look at the man, the blood still splashed across his face, she frowned, turning and grabbing a flannel, getting it wet in the sink. “Here,” Walking towards him, Molly held the back of Sherlock’s head, wiping away the blood from his face, trying not to look him in the eye.

          “He can keep them safe, but you… care.” There was little point in arguing with Sherlock, even if she did know that Mycroft cared far more than his brother knew. Moving to toss the flannel back in the sink, she let out another gasp when Sherlock took her wrist, her eyes instantly finding his, seeing the pain and the fear in those stormy eyes, her heart aching for him. “Molly… Thank you. For all of this. I know that this isn’t easy for you either, but… thank you. You are far stronger than you give yourself credit for.” Hesitating, she just looked at him, unsure of what to say, not certain what would make this better, what would tell him that she do everything she could to protect those he cared for, that she would do anything he asked, so instead, she stepped closer and wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him tight as she closed her eyes. She was never very good with words, that was obvious, but hopefully he understood everything she wanted to say with just this. It took Sherlock a moment before he returned the action, wrapping an arm around her and resting his forehead on her shoulder, the both of them standing in silence for a few moments till he spoke again. “We should make a plan for me to leave tonight so that no one else sees me. I can’t promise that I’ll be able to keep much contact with you after this, but I’ll ask Mycroft to keep you updated whenever I’m able to communicate with him. Just… please, keep an eye on John for me, will you?” Bringing herself back, Molly took a deep breath as she pulled back, wrapping her arms around herself as she stood in front of Sherlock.

          “Right, well, we can get you out through the basement door, after dark. I’m going to call your brother, and I’m sure he will take care of the rest as far as getting you out of London. It will also provide a cover if I ask him here to identify the body, give your story more believability.” She gave Sherlock a small smile, feeling a bit nervous that he would ask her to look after John, especially now that she had been a part in tearing the man down. She wasn’t sure how she would watch after him, not without feeling like an absolute arse, but she couldn’t say no. “I’ll do my best for John.”

*****

          Greg was shaking as he parked outside of the Diogenes Club, having just got off the phone with John and very nearly sick from the pain in the man’s voice. Just because he had known that Sherlock’s plan would involve allowing Moriarty to discredit him enough to make the man think he had won, didn’t mean that he had known that Sherlock would jump off the side of a building, and now he was dead… or maybe not dead. Greg couldn’t say anything as John had ranted to him about how he had seen him jump, had seen him on the ground, and god if Greg didn’t feel guilty if this hadn’t been a part of this plan and he really had pushed Sherlock to do this as well. Making his way quickly through the halls, the D.I. pushed the door open into Mycroft’s private wing, swallowing thickly at the sight of his partner sitting at a long table, his head in his hands.

          “My? Sherlock… is he… he’s not… is he?” Mycroft looked up at him instantly, his face looking as if he was looking a ghost, the man slowly standing as he moved towards him, wrapping his arms around him.

          “Meum luna et stellas… I was so worried I had lost you.” Greg breathed a sigh of relief, burying his face in the man’s neck as they found their comfort in one another’s hold.

          “Mycroft, meum sol, what are you talking about? I’m fine. I was at the office until John called about Sherlock. Like you said, they’ve put me on suspension as they look over the cases that he was on, but… My, John said Sherlock jumped off Bart’s. How… but he’s… just tell me that he’s okay. Please,” He murmured, pulling back just enough to cup Mycroft’s cheek, brushing the tears in the corner of the politician’s eyes away with his fingers. “Mycroft, love, breathe, I’m here. Just tell me that Sherlock’s alright.”

          “He’s fine, he’s with Molly, this was part of the plan. I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you, but I’m just relieved you are okay. They had, still have, I’m not sure, snipers trained on you, John and Mrs. Hudson, ready to fire if Sherlock didn’t jump. We knew Richard would try to have Sherlock end his life, but we could have never guessed he would threaten all of you as well. I couldn’t contact you without setting them off, so I had to wait. It was the worst hours of my life, knowing that if you died this time, you wouldn’t come back, that I would never see you again.” Greg blinked as Mycroft told him about the snipers, swallowing back his fear as he thought back on a new officer he had noticed that had been watching him throughout the day, no one at the Yard having really known who he was. They had all assumed he was new and someone they had recently hired, but he could think of no one else who stood out and was close enough in office to… That thought trailed off as he shook his head, looking back up to Mycroft.

          “I’m here now, though. I’m alright, love. It’s okay.” He murmured, leaning up to press a slow, gentle kiss to the man’s lips. He always loved kissing his partner, his husband, but in that moment, it was almost like air to him, desperately needed to assure him that everything was going to be alright, that they really were okay. “You have me. I’m here.”

          “Gregori, meum coeur,” Mycroft whispered, pulling back to look at him, those hands now holding his face. “Te amo… ego nec sine te nihil sum.” _I love you… I am nothing without you._ Greg gently hushed Mycroft even as tears streamed down the other’s face, kissing him back with all the same passion to assure him that it really would be okay.

          “I’m here, My. You have me, now and forever.” He murmured, wrapping his arms tighter around the man and moving to cradle his head as he deepened the kiss. The fear in his lover’s eyes pushed him to comfort the other more, along with the realisation that his life had been in danger settling into his mind. He had developed an odd relationship with death, having gotten used to his own mortality and appreciating the comfort that he would return to be with Mycroft again before he had regained his memories, but now he was immortal… except for when he wasn’t, and that was even more terrifying. “You have me,” Greg repeated again, pressing up against Mycroft’s chest, desperate to be closer to him now, to know it was finally over, once and for all, and they could finally move on with their lives. Mycroft moved them over to the sofa at the end of the room, moaning as he was pressed into the cushions, continuing to chase after those kisses that the other was covering him with, his hands wandering over the politician’s back before getting to work on ridding him of his vest and button down.

          “Gregory,”

          “I’m right here, love. Always and forever.” He whispered, gasping as the other bit down along the side of his neck before sucking a mark against his skin. “Christ My,” Greg breathed, his hand cradling his head and dragging his nails along Mycroft’s scalp. “I love you. So very much,”

          “Amica mea cor tuum, illuminatio mea,” _My soul, my heart, my light,_ the tightness in Greg’s chest from his fear and panic over the thought of losing Sherlock slowly gave way to the warmth that only Mycroft could fill him with, feeling so loved and protected. Even before he had gained his memories there was a certain joy in hearing the man speak Latin to him, but knowing what those old words meant now and the stories behind them only bathed him in more love than he knew what to do with.

          “My sun, my day, my life,” He whispered, guiding Mycroft’s mouth back to his so he could kiss him once more, undoing his own shirt and belt so that he could be closer to his lover as well. “I love you.”

          “I love you my heart, till my last breath, I will always love you.” Greg shivered as Mycroft laid himself back over him, smiling at the gentle kisses over his face before they were able to kiss once more.

          “And I you,” He whispered in turn, shifting them both around on the sofa so that he could allow for Mycroft to rest between his legs. He could feel how hard they both were as their hips settled against one another, but Greg didn’t feel quite the same push as they normally had, to get the both of them undressed so they could go at one another, instead simply happy to take it slow, to map out one another’s skin and the comfort it brought. Still Greg moved to get them out of their pants and trousers, moaning at the feeling of skin on skin. Mycroft took advantage of the fact that their clothes were gone, trailing kisses down his chest, rubbing his hands over his skin, and pressing those fingers into his stomach and hips. Greg laughed softly as he felt each kiss and touch, arching into each perfect brush of those long, delicate fingers. “You play me like an instrument.” He breathed with a lazy smirk, certainly not complaining as he watched the other skip over what they both really wanted.

          “Over two thousand years to learn exactly where to touch,” Those fingers danced right above where his waist band would sit, the muscles dancing as it was a rather sensitive area, a gasp falling from his lips. “Exactly where to run my tongue,” That appendage now licking a stripe up the inside of his thigh, stopping a few inches from his groin and those teeth nipping at the soft skin there. “And exactly where to bite. I should be able to play you like an instrument,”

          “Why must you always tease,” Greg groaned, twisting a bit of hair around his fingers and playfully tugging at it to try and get Mycroft to move up. “Unless you want me to take you over the side of the softa like in Rome… And to think that I taught you half of your tricks,” He grinned, spreading his legs just a little more and rocking his hips towards his lover’s mouth. “Which makes it terribly hard to try and think of something new as you always ask, though simply to have you here and now and always, my darling, it always a treat.” Greg said with a fond smile, sighing as the other left another bite mark along his skin. “My everything, my love,” Finally Mycroft made his way back up, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips and rolling his hips down.

          “Yes, well now you know what you have done before, and you have the rest of our lives to come up with something new.” Sighing at the feeling of Mycroft’s hand now against his wanting prick, Greg wrapped his own, joining his lovers while kissing him in turn, knowing just how much he loved hearing the other. “Gregory… love. Gods, how did I get so lucky to have you?”

          “I’ve always said how I’ve wanted you in your office… we are certainly getting closer. Having me crying out your name in a club that treasurers silence around one another…” Greg moaned, arching into another lazy stroke of their hands, looping his leg around Mycroft’s hip to pull them closer. “I love you. Your touch, your mouth, your everything. My husband, my sun.”

          “The gods themselves couldn’t keep me quiet when I have you like this, my heart,” Chuckling, he twisted their hands, moaning at the feeling of their pricks rubbing against each other and how Mycroft was starting to push for just a little more than what they were getting. There was still a rush, even now, in being wanted, in being able to push the normally stoic politician to the edge and make him lose control, chasing after the most basic of pleasure all because of him.

          “I want you, My. Every way I can. I need you, Here, now, please,” He half begged, rocking his hips up in time with a few faster strokes shared between them. “Let me be yours and no one else’s.”

          “Gregory, mi amore, meine lieb, amica mea,” Mycroft’s voice was strangled, the man’s pace growing shaky. “You have me, always and forever, now please love, come for me,” Greg gasped as he felt Mycroft start to fall apart, right on the edge as he pushed for him to come, looking back up at his husband to those eyes that had only ever been for him. Moaning Mycroft’s name, he arched his back off the sofa, clinging to the man with his free arm while trying to bring his lover to finish as well.

          “I love you, my husband, my life, my sun. Come for me too, love, let me see you.” A few more strokes and he felt that now familiar staggering as his lover buried his face in his neck, panting and letting out a choked moan, the warmth spilling over their hands. Greg hummed softly as Mycroft collapsed on top of him, reaching over to wipe his hand off on his boxers which were blessedly within reach, before wrapping his arms tight around his lover. “Ich liebe dich. Es ist vorbei, wir können endlich unsere Familie zusammen haben.” _I love you. It’s over now, we can finally have our family together._ He said softly into Mycroft’s hair, kissing him gently with a lazy smile. As their pleasure faded though, so did his smile, Greg settling into the reality that he could have died, and to the world, Sherlock had. “What do we do now? Where do we go from here?”

          “I love you too, Gregory. Now, Sherlock will be gone, for however long it takes to clear the cobwebs from Richard’s network. We are safe, though, that man will never grace us with his malice ever again. Now, I think we can start talking about our family in terms of actually being able to move forward. I know you will wish to wait on the wedding, so that Sherlock can be there, but I do not wish to wait any longer to have our little one.” Greg brushed his hand through Mycroft’s hair as he listened to his explanation, his chest hurting for John at the loss of his friend, no matter what their romantic involvement was or wasn’t. The fact that no one even knew how long it would take for Sherlock to do this hurt as well, knowing that Mycroft cared deeply for his little brother, no matter how many arguments they got into with one another.

          “I hadn’t even thought about it,” Greg admitted to the wedding, shaking his head and pressing another lazy kiss to his hair. There had been so many other things happening since their engagement that it had been placed on hold, plans for their baby only coming along as more information cropped up about facilities they could use. “You know me far too well, though. I wouldn’t want it without Sherlock being there. Which of course, he’ll say was ridiculous, but he’ll appreciate it. I just hope he stays safe and actually thinks to check in with you instead of leaving us all to guess.” He groaned, stretching his back slightly under his partner as his body began to cramp up from the fact that two grown men were attempting to share a space on the sofa. “Come home, My. Don’t stay here alone thinking about Sherlock’s death, no matter how real or fake it may be. You can finish this tomorrow, no one will question it.” Mycroft didn’t speak, just sighed softly and gave a small nod, but Greg didn’t make to move, still feeling the weight of everything on his chest, and wanting to bask in the comfort of his lovers embrace just a little longer.


	45. XLIV

_           Of course they were running off after another criminal, even after Greg had told them to stay back, but Sherlock never listened to him, never listened to anyone really. So here he was, following after the man, like always, chasing down this maniac with a gun on the docks, into an abandoned building, all of which seemed really unsafe but he wasn’t about to let his partner face this alone. Catching his breath, a hand on his heart, John swallowed as he stepped into the warehouse where he had seen Sherlock disappear, only to be greeted with the sight of the man standing deathly still, his hands in fists at his side and looking off into the shadows.  _

_ “Sherlock, what are we-” He was cut off to his partner growling at him to stay back, the man they had been following coming towards them from the shadows of the warehouse, a gun pointed straight at Sherlock’s chest. John knew that his partner was concerned for his safety and had been trying to tell him to be careful all day, but he wasn't about to let him be stupid and try some insane stunt. _

_ “Sherlock,” He warned just as easily, though the man moved forward to stand between himself and the other, to protect him like the headstrong idiot he was. _

_ “Your grievance is with me, let John go and we can work this out, there is no need to do anything rash,” Sherlock tone was very nearly begging, which certainly wasn't like him, John's gaze going to his partner before hearing the gun cock in front of them. “Look, I will come with you, we can work this out.” He offered, taking a step forward as the man's gaze flickered towards John, face turned into a sneer and his hand tightened around his gun. There was obviously something more here than just a random assailant, some sort of history as Sherlock obviously knew this man, though John wouldn’t have been able to tell him from Adam should anyone have asked. All he knew was that his husband was about to take a bullet from a madman, and there wasn’t time for explanations, he had to act fast.  _

_ “Sherlock, don’t!” John cried out, not thinking for a moment as he moved to block his lover with his body, time slowing down as he became acutely aware of the feeling of the bullet piercing his chest. He crumpled, barely noting that he fell to the floor, the pain of hitting the concrete nothing compared to the pain spreading through his chest from the bullet. His vision quickly started to fade and he wasn’t sure what happened next as shock instantly set in, all he could see was Sherlock’s face, the man close and saying something, but the sounds were all muffled in his ears. The pain was clear though, not his own, but the pain on his lovers features, an ache in his chest wanting to fix it, but he knew he didn’t have time, and it wasn’t long before the black creeped in on the edges of his vision and everything was gone.  _

 

John woke with a start as he scrambled for the bin next to the bed, his meager dinner from the night before finding it’s way back up as reality came back to him, though he knew that whatever had just happened, it wasn’t just some dream. Maybe in the memory he didn’t know who Moriarty was, but now he would recognise that face anywhere. Moving to turn on the bedside lamp in the hotel, John rubbed his hands over his face, the sweat beading on his skin as he tossed the duvet to the side. It had been months since Sherlock had jumped, and still he was haunted by these memories, new ones coming each week but never anything good, always horrible ones of pain and death. Waiting until his breathing slowed, he moved to the bathroom, splashing cold water on his face to try and calm himself and clear his thoughts, looking up in the mirror and seeing how ragged he actually looked. Ever since the fall, he couldn’t bring himself to stay at 221b, the memories far stronger there and the ache even worse, so he had been living out of a hotel room, and even when he had tried to pay for it the tab had been ‘mysteriously’ covered, though he knew it was Mycroft. Part of him wanted to be angry at the man, wanting to defend himself saying he could manage, but maybe it was the man’s way of apologising for what had happened. It was nearing two in the morning, no one would be awake and John contemplated messaging Greg, even if the man wouldn’t text him back just because dammit, he needed to talk to someone about this, seeing as his therapist would surely lock him away in the nut house if he told her that he was remembering things from his past lives. Sighing as he walked back to his bed, he sat down and stared at the device, his features tugged into a frown as he contemplated it, waiting a few moments before giving in and reaching to pick his mobile up. 

> **_Hey, I know it’s late, sorry mate, I just… I can’t sleep and I’m having these awful nightmares… memories, I don’t even know anymore. You were the only one who has been honest with me, and I just need help, please. -JW_ **

Laying back on the bed and expecting to be there all night till morning came, John was surprised when he heard his mobile go off, his brows knit together as he looked over to where he had set his phone back down. Reading the message twice, his thumbs hovered over the keyboard, not sure what to say, still shocked the man was up this late. 

> **Don’t apologise, it’s fine. Want me to come get you? We can just go to a diner and talk if you want. What did you remember? -GL**
> 
> **_Didn’t think you’d be up this late… maybe I’m not the only one who can’t sleep. I don’t want it to be too much trouble, we can wait till tomorrow, maybe go for lunch if it’s too late now, I just… I need to talk to someone about this. -JW_ **

Greg had been honest with him when he had first been taken by Richard, all those explosives strapped to his chest, which now in comparison seemed like a walk in the park, and honestly he would take that any day over what he had been dealing with for the past few months. When the man had told him that he would have memories of his past lives it had been a bit difficult to believe, but he had expected that if he was going to remember things there would at least be good memories, things of past lives that were mundane, such as daily things, or special times where nice things happened, but no. It had been one long, horrific nightmare of death after death, times alone and scared, pain, and most of all, seeing Sherlock in pain. Maybe their lives together hadn’t been the best and that’s why they weren’t together. Maybe that was why he didn’t have feelings for the detective this time around. He just had to talk to Greg, had to get this sorted out, or at least try to understand some of it. His attention was drawn back to his mobile when he heard it chirp again, the screen lighting up the room. 

> **Case. Everyone’s breathing down my neck since it’s the first big one after coming back, so I have to prove to everyone that I do actually know how to do my job. Either way is fine, John, really. If you want to meet now, I’ll be happy to, or we can wait and get lunch tomorrow. -GL**
> 
> **I just know this shit gets weird fast when you’re stuck trying to piece together what’s going on in your head, so if you’d rather just try and sleep for the night, I completely understand. -GL**
> 
> **_I know I won’t be getting any sleep tonight. If anything, I’ll just be laying here staring at the ceiling, but I wouldn’t want to take your focus away from your case. -JW_ **
> 
> **I’m pretty sure 2am is when you either get your big break, or you decide to sleep on it. Since I’ve been staring at the same chunk of information for the last hour, I’m going to say it’s the latter for the night. When was the last time you ate? -GL**
> 
> **_Doesn’t matter when I last ate seeing as I tossed it all when I woke up just a few minutes ago. Not sure I can stomach anything right now, but maybe some coffee would be good. -JW_ **
> 
> **I’ll come around and pick you up in a bit. Coffee always works. -GL**

Moving about the room, John started to pull on something so he looked at least semi-presentable, knowing that at least Greg wouldn’t judge him if he still looked like shit before grabbing the hotel key card.  He started down the stairs, opting for the longer route for now instead of just taking the lift. Stepping out into the cool night air, he looked up at the sky, sighing as he waited, just glad to be outside and out of the stingy room that only reminded him that he still couldn’t handle being at home. Mrs. Hudson was nice enough to keep the flat for him, and of course, a ‘mysterious’ donor was still paying to have it stay in Sherlock’s name so he was always welcome back, but he still couldn’t stomach the idea just yet. Leaning against the wall of the hotel, John closed his eyes, just waiting and content that the nightmares weren’t flooding his thoughts as he stood there. It was relaxing, being out, his mind blissfully blank for the first time in a while. He wasn’t sure how long he had been standing there or how many had noticed him, but he heard the car pull up and knew it was Greg. Pushing off the wall and walking over, he easily slipped into the black sedan and giving the man a tight smile. 

“Do you want to go in anywhere? Or just grab some drive through coffee and stay in the car?” 

“Well, it might be better to stay out of the public eye, as I’m not sure many would like to hear the horrors I’ve been experiencing, and I don’t think a night in the looney bin would do either of us any good.” John sighed, trying to joke but falling flat as he knew it was a possibility, what with what their realities entailed. 

“You’re not crazy,” Greg tried to reassure him, the car pulling away from the curb. “You said you had another memory? What was it?” He knew this question would be there, that eventually Greg would ask it, but he still felt hesitant to talk about it, worrying that maybe his mind was just making things up and that Greg would say he didn’t know where this was coming from. Sighing, he closed his eyes, knowing that he would at least feel a little better if he couldn’t see the look the other gave him when he finally came out with it. 

“It was like nothing had changed, well… the time period yeah, but that seems to be a given with these…” Waving his hands, he tried to gesture, not really sure if he should call them memories or nightmares. “But we were chasing down a criminal, having gone off to some abandoned warehouse… and it turns out… it was…” His voice choked when he tried to say the name, not able to bring himself to it, not having said that man’s name since before Sherlock… John’s throat tightened, realising this was a horrible idea and feeling like he was suffocating, all of it coming up, just bubbling under the surface after he had worked so hard to keep it all down. 

“Moriarty,” Greg provided softly, looking over to him with a sad smile. “You and Sherlock were trying to capture him, he had starting acting out to catch his attention and had led the two of you into a warehouse. You took the bullet for Sherlock. I was retired from the police at that time, but I still had contacts that Sherlock worked with now and again, and when that bastard showed up again, he and Mycroft had tried to lure him away to finish it when they could. I… I’m sorry John. With gaining your memories, you gain back  _ everything. _ ” John listened, glad that at least Greg had confirmed that this had really happened, and he wasn’t just making things up now and hallucinating. 

“Yeah, well I wish I was gaining back memories that were mundane, or happy, or even just boring, but I just have been getting the bad ones. This isn’t the first time I remember dying, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. Guess the good news is, I’ve already had six of them, how many more lives could I possibly have had?” He gave a half chuckle, looking to the other for reassurance as he remembered Greg saying he had eleven, so hopefully there weren’t too many more and this could be over. It wasn’t like this was going to continue every day of his life till he died again. “Not to mention, I remember all the horrible times we got sick when there wasn’t medicine, all the wars, the fighting, the pain, especially the pain in  _ his  _ face…” 

“Do you remember the first time the two of you met?” John shook his head, sighing as he could add another memory to the list of things he’d rather know then what he did. “It was in ancient Rome. I was a gladiator and you were a doctor, you’ve always been a soldier or a doctor, but you were about the same age as you are now and helped patch us up after fights. Sherlock was just a kid at the time when the two of you formally met, couldn’t have been more than ten or eleven, but he was fascinated by your practice and would follow you around like a shadow. You taught him everything you could, and he soaked it up like a sponge. Sherlock came back one night and declared that you were the one that was going to be his mate. We laughed, thinking he was foolish, you saw him far more like a son than anything romantic in that life, but… well, he proved us wrong, and oh how smug he was when you came back, too.” It sounded like something Sherlock would do, knowing the man having lived with him for years now, but somehow the talk of that time did nothing to lighten his mood. “You’ll have those good memories come to you, I know you will. You’re a fighter, you’ll make it through this.” 

“What if I don’t want them? I mean… I don’t feel anything for Sherlock, hell, I’m not gay mate…” John trailed off, realising afterwards that Greg would probably say something about James, but it wouldn’t be the first time he had tried to explain that to himself, knowing that his feelings were just for  _ that  _ man, not others. He could feel the anger bubbling up inside him which his therapist was trying to say was the pain from losing someone, but no, he was just plain angry, not just in this regard. “If Sherlock really did love me, then why the hell would he leave me like this? Jump off the building and end it all so dramatically? Why couldn’t he have just left like a normal human would!?” His voice hitched, rising just a bit as he tightened his fists and clenched his jaw.

“Because Moriarty demands a show, and if he didn’t get Sherlock, it would have been us. You, me, and Mrs. Hudson. Mycroft has been searching for the snipers that had been trained on us, but one has slipped away and he’s still doing everything he can to make sure that we’re still safe, because if there’s anything we can still do for Sherlock, it’s that. He did love you, and didn’t care if you returned the feeling, as long as you were safe and happy, and even if we can’t make you happy, dammit, I’m going to keep you safe.” John tried to stay angry, he really did, but hearing Greg explain that there were snipers trained on each of them made his blood run cold, knowing that was something Richard would have done, especially after having been a victim of his with C4 taped to his chest. Now he just felt like a tit for being angry at the man, not really knowing what he had gone through, only assuming that this was just Sherlock getting caught up in one of his stupid games again, but no… instead the man sacrificed himself, his immortal life, so that John could live this one. The anger was all but gone now, and just felt like crawling back into that hotel bed and letting the hollow feeling in his chest eat him up and swallow him whole, but he knew Greg would never let him go back now that he was out. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” 

Greg sighed, running a hand through his hair as he looked to the street. “Neither did I until after. I knew there was some sort of basic plan that Sherlock and Mycroft had up their sleeve, to play Moriarty’s game, to stack the cards so they could come out ahead and finish it once and for all, but… I didn’t know what Sherlock was going to do. I’m sorry, too. I wish I could offer more. I don’t know what to say mate, just that I’m really, really sorry.” Shrugging when the other apologised, John let out a deep sigh, looking to the other with a forced smile. 

“Not like either of us could have prevented this. Just a crazy… who knows what you would call it, all those years ago that turned a normal man into…” Well, whatever the fuck Richard had become. There was no way any of them could have ever seen this coming, to have stopped Richard’s mental break down before it happened, because hell, he remembered that night and how traumatising the experience was, and the rest of them came out as well as anyone could expect. “I just wish I could move on, but these memories make it next to impossible to forget the past.” 

“I know I’ll sound like a broken record, but it’ll get better. Just… think about it this way. I know your memories that you have right now aren't’ the best, but you know there has to be some since you remember loving him right? Even if you don’t think of him like that now, just… think of him like an ex. I’m sure you’ve had plenty of people you've dated that you loved then and don’t love now, just think about it like that. Hell, I remember when Caroline and I still loved each other, actually loved each other, and look at us now. You still have James, and if anyone’s going to understand loss, it’s going to be him, yeah? Just don’t lock yourself away. It bloody hurts, I know it does, I lost my brother, you know? Without Mycroft and Miles, I’m sure I’d be just as lost.” James had been trying to contact him as of late, probably having heard about the suicide of the ‘fake genius,’ knowing that John had been living with him. He knew it was wrong to ignore the man, and maybe Greg was right, that he should reach out and get in contact with James, because if anyone could make him feel human again, it would be his Major. 

“Yeah, guess it’s just a tad harder when I don’t talk to my family, and James is still on active duty.” John’s voice was tight, glad they were pulling into the lot for the diner Greg had in mind, ready to talk about something else so he didn’t have to break down in front of the man. Parking, the D.I. ran inside to get them both coffee, coming back quickly and their conversation slowly shifting to talking about Greg’s memories of different times, keeping them more about the era rather than specific events. It seemed to get his mind off of everything for a bit, providing him a momentary escape until he found himself starting to yawn and lean heavily against the back of the seat. Greg brought him back and they said their good nights, John looking back up at the hotel with a heavy sigh before heading in and back to that small, stuffy room. 

*****

Lingering in the hall, Greg detoured into Mycroft’s office for a moment to read over Sherlock’s last letter, giving an update of his location and who he was after, wishing desperately that he could tell John everything, but there was still that last damned sniper that had eluded everyone, so they were still playing it safe. Shaking his head, Greg gave into his own heavy yawn before heading back upstairs to the bedroom, kicking off the trousers he had thrown on to meet up with John before carefully climbing into bed, not wanting to wake Mycroft any earlier than the man already had to get up. 

“Why have you stayed up so late my love? I went to find you and you weren’t home.” Mycroft’s voice was heavy with sleep as he groaned. 

“Go back to sleep, My.” Greg whispered as he felt his partner roll over to half lay across him, shifting around to free his arm so he could hug Mycroft against him as well. After such heavy conversations with John, he selfishly needed the concrete reminder that he still had his lover at his side, and nothing was going to take that away from him. “I left you a note,” he defended himself softly, pressing a long kiss to the man’s hair. “John texted me. He’s been gaining more memories, but thanks to his PTSD and everything with Sherlock, they’ve apparently been his deaths or other equally gory times. He just needed someone to talk to and tell him he wasn’t going crazy.” Greg explained, his hand lazily traveling up and down Mycroft’s back as he tried his best to relax again. “He’s angry, but really, he’s got every right to be. I just wish there was more I could do to help him.” 

“You are a good man, Gregory. Going to talk to him this late at night is everything you can do for him. I know you will be a good friend to him,” Sighing, he knew Mycroft was right, and he was glad that after six months, John was finally coming around and reaching out to someone, instead of keeping himself walled off. 

*****

Greg had never been as happy over a guilty verdict as he had been with the close of his big case, finally getting a break a month later when he had caught the rubbish man sorting through the victim’s neighbor’s trash at a site visit. Jealousy was a ridiculous notion that Greg would never understand. Called in to the Superintendent’s office once the news came down that they had got their sentence, Greg’s excitement cooled at the sight of Donovan sitting in one of the chairs, clenching his jaw to keep himself from saying the first few things he wanted to say to her. 

“Sir. Sergeant Donovan. How’s Anderson’s wife?” He asked, only just able to keep his discontent under wraps as he offered a hand out to both of them, noticing their Super’s glare. “I haven’t had any contact with him since his termination, but Sally and him were close while on my team is all, sir,” He quickly defended, not wanting to have the man mad at him just after he got back on their good side. 

“I just wanted to say good work on this case, Lestrade. I’m sorry I ever doubted you, and I’m glad you accepted our apology and came back to the force. With that said, I wanted to ask you if you would interview for a D.C.I. position opening up. We had considered you for some time before, and now that the job is open, we think you would be a perfect candidate. Donovan vouched for you, hence why she’s here, just wanted to ask you formally before we called you in.” Greg blinked in surprise when his Superintendent offered him to interview for the promotion, feeling guilt even for snipping at Donovan when she was the one who had spoken up for him.  He had been pushed to apply for it a few times in the past, but every time he had turned it down, coming up with different excuses, but the reality had been that he had always been afraid of leaving Sherlock on his own since the position would require him to take a step back from the field and put him into a more supervisory position. Now he didn’t have Sherlock to take into account, and he was sure that Mycroft would be happy for him to move up in the work that he had loved through all of his lives. 

“I would be honoured to be considered, Sir. Thank you, and thank you Sally,” He added, turning to his former Sergeant with a slightly sheepish smile to apologise for what he had said before. “We might have been completely opposite sides with everything that happened with Sherlock, but I think you would be a good choice to take my place if I were to get the position.” She gave him a small smile and a nod before dismissing herself, Greg turning his attention back to his Super. 

“Funny you should recommend her, Lestrade. She’s been gunning for your spot since this whole fiasco started. I figured she’d only put the word in for you to move up so she still could, but if you think she’s the right choice, we’ll consider it. As for your interview, we will have it tomorrow after your lunch. You’ll do good Lestrade,” Greg pressed his lips into a thin line as Donovan left the room, listening to what their super had to say before shaking his head. 

“What can I say? She’s damn good at her job. She’s a bitch sometimes, but… sometimes you need a bitch to get things done. Just make sure she’s got an officer that has a heart to watch her back, or she’ll have a mutiny on her hands in no time,” He warned, standing and shaking his Superintendent’s hand once more before leaving back to his office, giving Donovan a warning glance to make sure that she knew he was on to her before closing the door and grabbing his phone to ring Mycroft. Never mind the potential for sounding like an excited school girl, it was something he was proud of and wanted to share as soon as possible. 

*****

It had been a rather long day, and about five minutes after he had arrived, Anthea had already come up to him saying that unless they had plans that they would die to miss, they were all coming over for dinner that night. He assumed it was because they had all been so distant and busy the last few months that she wanted to get together, especially with how fast Miles grew and grew each day. He would never say no to dinner with them, or a chance to see his godson, and he was sure Gregory wouldn’t either. The only plans they would be breaking was their normal evenings together over dinner, a quiet night in and an early bedtime. What could he say, they were a very old married couple of sorts. When lunchtime came around, he had his food brought in, leftovers Gregory had sent him with and warmed by his staff. Taking only a few moments between papers to eat, he frowned when he heard his mobile go off, not sure who would be calling him at this hour. When he saw the name on the screen, though, his frown turned to a soft smile, answering and holding it to his ear. 

“Hello love. I will never complain about speaking with you, but you wouldn’t call whilst at work if something hadn’t happened. Everything go well when you turned in your case?” 

“Salve, amica mea,”  _ Hello, my love.  _ Hearing Gregory speak Latin still brought butterflies to his stomach, loving the sound of his native tongue coming from that familiar voice. “It did, yes. Guilty with a minimum of twenty years before parole. I actually got congratulated by the Superintendent on the case, and offered to interview for a promotion. Detective Chief Inspector. Donovan recommended me for the slot, though apparently she’s been gunning for my current position through everything. I’ll never forgive her for what she said and did with Sherlock, Richard’s game of not, but… I think she would be good at it. Just as long as she has someone to balance her, and I’m sure she’d have a learning curve too, but she’s certainly good at getting things done.” 

“That is fantastic Gregory, you deserve the position, and I am not just saying that because I am rather biased. You are the best officer on the force, highest solve rate, and quickest time, and that was before Sherlock ever came into the picture. You have worked hard my love, and I am so very proud of you and happy as well. As for Donovan, you know I have choice words about that woman. From day one she has been a thorn in my side, but I won’t bore you with the lengthy conversation I could have regarding her.” Mycroft chuckled, setting his pen down so he could focus on the conversation with his husband. 

“I know you are not fond of Donovan, and I’ve lost my taste for her as well, but I know she can get the job done, sentiments be damned.” 

“Anthea has strong armed us into dinner tonight, on lighter subjects, which I figured you would enjoy. I just thought I would let you know, because she will be asking for your cooking as always…” 

“You sound so put out about it. I swear it’s whenever she doesn’t feel like cooking herself. Hey, any time we get to spend with Miles, I’m more than happy for. God knows I haven't been able to spend as much time as I like to with that damned case. Here’s to hoping I get to have a bit of a break after all that. Any ideas for dinner tonight?” 

“Not a clue, you know I’m rubbish with food. I’m sure Anthea will be happy with anything you make, and even if she does come by when she doesn’t feel like cooking, you will never tell her no, and you never turn down the chance to cook for anyone, so don’t pretend that bothers you,” Mycroft chuckled, looking out of his office door to the woman in question sitting in the hall. “You choose the dinner and I will choose the wine, as always. Any prep work I can do to help, I will as well, you know.” Sighing, Mycroft sat back, looking at the unpleasant amount of paperwork he had on his desk. “Well I am proud of you my love, and we’ll all celebrate together tonight. Unfortunately, if you want me home in time, I really must get back to the ever increasing stack of papers on my desk. I shall see you at home. Te amo, amica mea.” 

“Says the man who seduced me with food when we first met this time,” Gregory teased him. 

“Just because having lunch with you to discuss my brother’s progress was the cover I came up with, does not mean I used food to seduce you silly man,” Mycroft rolled his eyes, shining off on yet another paper and setting it to the side. 

“I’ll make chicken florentine for us tonight, and I’ll make some extra so everyone can have leftovers tomorrow. Now go run the world, my dear, and I’ll get back to saving it. I’ll see you tonight.” 

“Yes, my heart. See you then,” Hanging up, he spent the rest of the evening with a soft smile on his lips and a warm feeling in his chest, glad that though things with Sherlock were still unstable, at least their lives in London seemed to be looking up. 

 

Anthea had left an hour and a half before he did, coming in to remind him that dinner was still on, and Mycroft reassuring her that yes, he remembered and had already informed Gregory that he was to cook. Reaching the house, he toed off his shoes and hung up his jacket, setting his briefcase and brolly down by the door before heading towards the kitchen, walking up quietly behind his lover and wrapping his arms around the man’s waist. 

“Hello, my darling. Do you have any idea of why Anthea was so pushy to have dinner together tonight? Or was it simply that tonight was the night that worked in everyone’s favours?” 

“I haven’t the faintest. She just insisted on coming over and that even if we had prior plans, unless they were life or death, we were canceling them to have her over,” Mycroft chuckled, pressing a soft kiss to Gregory’s cheek before stepping away and leaning against the island. “Is there anything I can do to assist?” 

“Some sort of surprise, then. Anything else and she would have already told us. Well, there’s not much you can do with this, it pretty much does itself. You can prep the mushrooms for later if you’d like,” 

“Anything you ask, my heart.” Mycroft smiled, moving to grab them and start on the task that Gregory had given to him. 

*****

She had left work just a tad early, wanting to make sure there was enough time for them to get ready before heading over to Mycroft and Gregory’s, knowing there were a few things she wanted done before they went. Entering the home, she could smell the wonderful aroma of her husband’s baking, her mouth watering just as her stomach growled, a strong craving for frosting scratching at her mind. Groaning, Anthea tried to push it out, knowing that she had to wait, the cupcakes were for Mycroft and Gregory, not for her stupid pregnant cravings that she had always given into when she had Miles. Walking towards the kitchen, she smiled as she watched Ryan set the deserts on the cooling rack, having just pulled them from the oven. Leaning against the door jamb, she crossed her arms as she smiled to him, feeling so incredibly lucky and in love with the man before her, and it wasn’t entirely hormones making her feel sappy, though they were threatening to have her in tears again. 

“The orange bowl is the extra icing for you and Miles to share, ‘cause I knew if I didn’t make extra, you and your son would eat it all before the cupcakes cooled,” Ryan teased without having to look up. Sliding off the oven mits and dusting a bit of the flour off his shirt, he stepped towards her and kissed her lightly as a hello, his hand resting on her stomach. “You do know that Greg and My are going to cry when you tell them tonight, which is only going to make you cry, right? Though I’m sure they’ll be mad when they realise we didn’t tell them the minute we knew that the treatment took. A surprise gender reveal is going to be a bit of a shocker.” She wasn’t about to tell him that watching him bake and knowing that he was such a sweet husband almost made her cry, because that would be admitting that the hormones always got the best of her, but he was right. They had been trying for a few months to get the IVF to work, not just to take, but to make sure the genetic testing came back alright as well, and this time, well… their friends were going to finally have their family. 

“I think when they find out that not only are they going to have their little one, but the gender as well, they will be so overcome they will complete forget to be mad that I am three months along. Plus, I wanted to make sure everything went well before giving them the news. If something had happened to the baby before then, they would have been crushed.” Wrapping her arms around Ryan’s waist, she lay her head on his chest, closing her eyes. “I have always said how incredibly lucky I am to have you, and how much I love you, but you still amaze me century after century. You are so selfless, and kind, and caring…” 

“They have talked about having a family for centuries. Every time they’ve met, it’s always been something Greg’s wanted, and always something Mycroft’s had to say no about.” Ryan murmured, both of them chuckling when they heard Miles make a massive explosion noise from his room before running out of his room still playing in his own little world. “And if we couldn’t give this to them, then who could?” Pulling back just enough so she could look up at him, Anthea smiled as she spread her hands over his chest. 

“Yes, but just because we can give it to them, it still means a lot that you have supported me through this, and agreed to give them this. I know that I’m carrying the child, but we are married, and as such, this decision wouldn’t be mine to make alone. You are letting your wife give a child to someone else.” Reaching up, she cupped the man’s cheek, smiling as she ran her thumb over his cheekbones. “It’s a very selfless, kind, and sweet thing to do, and I’m floored by your gentle and giving nature everyday.” Stepping up on her tiptoes, she thread her hand around the back of his head, tangling her fingers through his black curls and pulling him closer, pressing a kiss to his lips to show him how much it really meant to her. The moment didn’t last long till Miles made a dramatic show of how gross he found his parents kissing to be, Ryan breaking away to chase him. 

“Come here you,” Miles screamed as he ran, laughing when Ryan finally caught him and threw him over his shoulder, tickling his sides as he walked back to the kitchen. Chuckling softly, she sandwiched her son in a kiss before sitting down at the island next to Miles. 

“I can have mine now?” Miles asked as he reached out for one of the cupcakes, Ryan shaking his head as he gently caught the boy’s hand. 

“They’re still hot, Mac. We have to wait for them to cool first, then we’re going to decorate them as a surprise for Uncle Greg and Uncle My, remember?” Miles groaned and sat back in his chair with a rather Holmsean sulk. “But you get to help decorate them, okay? Daddy made some extra icing that you and mum can have now,” Anthea had the bowl in her hand, swiping her finger through for a taste and humming as she closed her eyes and enjoyed the sweet, creamy flavour before opening them again to looked at Miles. 

“Want some darling?” She smiled, giving a laugh when he nodded enthusiastically and scooped some out. “Now love, you have to remember this is a surprise, so you can’t tell your uncles what colour the icing is, alright? This baby, it’s not mummy and daddy’s to keep like you were. Mummy is just holding it for your uncles because they can’t themselves. This little one will be your cousin. Will you help take good care of them?” She explained softly, watching as the boy looked to her with wide eyes, nodding as he licked the frosting from his fingers. 

“How do they know what it’s gonna be if it’s still in you? How come Daddy can’t hold it for you?” Miles asked as he licked between his fingers. 

“Because only mummies can hold babies in their tummy. Mummies have special super powers like that. The doctors now have a special camera they can use to see inside of you, like x-ray vision, but without the cool goggles.” Anthea rolled her eyes at the answer that mothers had super powers, knowing that Ryan knew better, but there was still a bit of his old ways that he stuck to, superstitions and beliefs they all kept from previous times. 

“Can I see them if I try real hard?” Miles asked, scrambling down from his chair and pressing his face into her stomach, both of them laughing as Ryan checked the cupcakes to see how they were, working on lifting them out of the tin. 

“Not quite buddy, but maybe we’ll be able to go together the next time mummy has pictures of the baby taken, and you can see them then, okay?” 

“We know what the baby is now because doctors saw them before it was in mummy’s tummy, love. They made sure the baby was healthy, and no sick beforehand, and while they were doing that, they looked to see if it was a little girl or boy. Now we are going to tell your uncles.” Anthea explained as she brushed her fingers through her son’s hair. “Daddy made these yummy cupcakes, and inside we are going to put the coloured frosting, so that when your uncles Gregory and Mycroft bite into it…” 

“They know what it is!” Miles smiled, taking the spoon from his father to scoop another glob of icing up and into his mouth. 

“That’s exactly right my love,” 

“Why did they put them back into mummy’s tummy if they already had them out? How did they know what it was?” Miles asked after a minute, still licking icing off the spoon. 

“Well… the baby wasn’t big enough yet so it needed to go in my tummy till it was big and strong,” 

“As for how we know, we’re all made up of little pieces and part, like how the cupcakes are when you were helping me, but all the little bits are like a book without pictures in it, just telling us little details and the rest is filled in later on. The doctors could open one of the books and read some of it, and they told us if they were going to be healthy or sick, and if they were going to be a boy or a girl,” Ryan explained after a pause, both of them wondering if this was too confusing for their son to understand. “Now, come on, let’s get these boxed up and we can make our way over, and what are we not telling them?” 

“The colour!” Miles announced happily, standing up in his chair before jumping down and running to his room to get his favourite toys to play with. Finishing the last of the cupcakes, Anthea smiled as she sat them down in the box, cleaning off the counter and helping put everything away, chuckling as Miles ran off. Once she had set the bowl in the sink to soak, she turned around, wiping her hands on the rag and starting for the door, gasping as Ryan caught her wrist, pulling her back to his side, those lips finding hers as she melted to him. Humming, she smiled against his lips, waiting a moment before pulling back just enough to look up at him. 

“And while you may think it is just me holding onto the old ways,” Ryan said softly, “You create life within you. You are a goddess made of magic, my dearest.”   

“Whatever you say my love. You do know how to make a girl smile though, calling her a goddess.” Biting her bottom lip, she gave him a playful smirk as she wrapped her arms around his waist. 

“I don’t care what other’s say, I know I speak the truth. Now, let’s go before Miles comes back and starts complaining about us being gross again.” He laughed, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead before nudging her along, giving her a playful smack on her arse. 

*****

Greg had finished the last touches on their dessert not five minutes before the doorbell rang, followed by a pause then three more quick rings which made the D.I. laugh. 

“Miles is here,” He chuckled with an amused smirk towards Mycroft, opening the door and grinning as the boy greeted him with a tight hug at his leg. “Hey there, lad. How’re you?” 

“Mummy and Daddy have a surprise for you and Uncle Mycroft, but I can’t tell you ‘cause it’s a surprise.” Miles announced proudly, grinning up at Greg before running to meet Mycroft just a few steps behind him. 

“Miles,” Anthea scolded, looking down to him with a hard stare, the boy smiling ear to ear as he ran past them and headed straight for the lounge where he knew the toys were stashed. 

“Is that why we couldn’t have plans tonight?” Greg asked with an amused shake of his head, offering his hand to Ryan before greeting Anthea with a quick hug. “Hey, he didn’t technically tell us what the secret was, so at least there’s that.” 

“I guess, but I was hoping you wouldn’t know until that moment. Now there’s pressure to tell you as soon as possible,” She chuckled, hugging him before moving to Mycroft to pull him in as well. 

“I think we can both wait until after dinner. We wouldn’t want Gregory’s delicious cooking to get cold while you are entertaining us with this secret Miles can’t tell us,” Mycroft chuckled, leading everyone towards the kitchen. He poured wine into all the glasses, taking his normal spot next to him, Ryan finally walking in with Miles who looked upset that he had to come and eat instead of play. 

“Well, I have a bit of a surprise for you as well, so perhaps that will help.” Greg offered, putting out a few extra pieces of fruit for Miles since he knew he wasn’t going to be interested in the salad he had prepared for everyone else to go along with dinner. “I got word back today on my major case that we got the sentence that we wanted, so that is officially closed and finished. Not only that, but my Superintendent called me in today and asked for me to interview for D.C.I. which I’ll be doing tomorrow.” Greg announced, reaching under the table to squeeze Mycroft’s knee where he sat beside him at the table. “It’ll involve more desk work than legwork, but… I think it’ll be nice. A lot of guys on my team have been pushing me to apply for it for a while now, but I always wanted to stay on the ground to try and have more things to do.” Anthea and Ryan congratulated him, everyone sharing their praises as they ate dinner, Miles making a few comments here and there about the good things he had to share, news about things he had learned, that he had helped his dad with baking and other such stories, and even a few more mentions of the surprise that he couldn’t spill because, as the boy was careful to remind everyone, it was a surprise.

“Gregory has made a wonderful fruit tart for dessert, when everyone is ready,” Mycroft started as they cleaned up the dishes and wiped down the counter, getting new plates for their desserts but stopping when Anthea spoke up. 

“Actually… we made dessert, sorry! I guess we should have told you.” 

“We’ll save the tart for tomorrow then,” Greg said after a pause, looking curiously over at Miles who looked like he was about to crawl out of his skin with his hand plastered over his mouth to keep himself from making a noise. “Is that what the surprise is?” He asked with a chuckle, the boy nodding his head quickly in response. 

“Let them find out themselves, then you call tell them everything you want to,” Ryan reminded, sliding his chair back just enough to allow for Miles to climb on his lap as Anthea pulled out four cupcakes that had white icing on top and sat them down on the plates that Mycroft had already pulled out. 

“The surprise is inside!” Miles said quickly before clamping both hands over his mouth, Ryan shaking his head and wrapping a hand around the boy’s torso to keep him from worming his way down again. 

“Let mummy talk now,” Ryan chided gently, kissing his hair before looking over to Anthea with a small nod for her to go on. Greg looked between the woman and Mycroft, the man eyeing the cupcakes, his brows knit together as he studied them, and he knew his partner was concerned for his diet. 

“No you don’t, Mycroft. I know you have your diet, but this is too important, you need to take your own and bite into it the same time Gregory does,” Anthea scolded, giving him a stare that rivaled his own, Greg shrugging as he picked his up. Taking a bite, he hummed at the sweet taste, closing his eyes for only a moment before looking at the pink icing that was stuffed inside, his brows knitting together, not sure what this meant, though Mycroft spoke first. 

“My dear, I’m not sure I understand…” Greg raised an eyebrow as he looked back at Mycroft, only slightly relieved when it was clear that his partner was just as confused as he was in all of this. 

“I don’t…” 

“Want to tell them? Like how mummy and I told you?” Ryan asked Miles, the boy’s expression turning serious as he focused on what to say.

“Mummy is holding a baby for you ‘cause you can’t and it’s a girl ‘cause the doctors read one of the books she’s made of with special goggles and they said so.” He said with a sharp nod, Ryan glancing over at Anthea trying desperately not to laugh before kissing their son’s cheek. 

“It took a few rounds of IVF, but Ann had one take about three months ago. They did a chromosome analysis to make sure it was viable before implanting it, and so we know it’s going to be a girl,” Ryan translated, chuckling at the look of complete shock on their friends’ faces as Gregory simply stared at them in disbelief. “This is why we waited until after dinner to tell you.” There was silence in the room as both Mycroft and Greg took a moment to process the news as it slowly sank in. 

“Nous avons une petite fille,”  _ We’re having a little girl,  _ Greg finally forced out, pulling Mycroft into a tight hug as he felt burst of tears well up and immediately break free, trailing down his cheeks before moving to hug Anthea in return, thanking her repeatedly while Mycroft continued to sit back in silence. 

“Why are they crying? You said they’d be happy.” Miles asked, pouting a bit and feeling that he had been lied to. 

“Sometimes people cry when they’re happy,” Ryan explained gently, his heart swelling at the sight of his two oldest friends finally getting what they had wanted for so long.

“But you cry when you’re sad and laugh when you’re happy, and they’re not laughing.” 

“I know Miles, it doesn’t make sense, but it happens sometimes. I promise you they’re very happy right now,” Ryan murmured, shifting his son to his own chair as he stood and accepted his hug from Greg. 

“I could never thank you all enough, but thank you… Christ, I can’t believe it, we’re actually going to be parents,” Greg forced out around a choked laugh, grinning over at Mycroft again. “We’re going to be parents, My,” All eyes were on Mycroft as the man sat in his chair, his eyes wide and tears streaking down his cheeks as Greg looked to him. There were a couple times he thought his partner would speak, but he closed his mouth again as if deciding they weren’t the right words. After a few moments, he finally spoke, his voice soft as he stuttered. 

“Hoc est verum? Post duos annos mille, Numquam cogitatur… Ego…”  _ This is real? After two thousand years, I never thought… I…  _ Greg nodded as he cupped Mycroft’s face in his hands, ignoring Miles as he complained about how they were going to kiss and asking to be excused to his toys again. 

“It’s really real, love. We’re really having our little girl,” He murmured, brushing away what tears he could before kissing him sweetly, turning back to Ryan and Anthea once he could find his voice again from his own emotions. “Thank you, so, so very much. This means the world to us, really.” Mycroft finally moved, pulling Anthea into his arms and holding her tight as he burried his face in her shoulder, Greg smiling softly as he looked at the two. 

“Gratias tibi,” His husbands voice shook as Anthea smiled and wrapped her arms around him as well. 

“Beati qui est summum deum dona mihi tecum, ut possint redere vos autem estis, qui desideravit Gregori et maxime ad te.”  _ It is the greatest gifts the gods have blessed me with, to be able to give you that which you have desired most for Gregory and yourself. _

 

Once they were able to speak again, the rest of the evening passed in excited conversation, asking how the pregnancy had gone so far and if there was anything at all they could do for Ryan and Anthea to repay them for their abundance of kindness. Assuring them time and time again that there was nothing to pay back, Ryan finally decided that it was time for his family to go when he went to check up on Miles only to find him asleep half standing, half laying across an ottoman in the tv room. Saying their goodbyes, Greg couldn’t help but break into another fit of excited giggles as they closed the door, pulling Mycroft into a tight hug before moving away just enough to see his face. 

“Our little girl. After so many years, so many lives wanting her again and again, we actually get our little baby! I can’t believe this is happening, I feel like I’m dreaming.” 

“Yes, my moon, and I have the perfect name for her,” Mycroft paused, Greg chuckling as he heard that because of course he already had a name. “We should call her Elise. Memento mei tu luna et sidera?”  _ Do you remember my moon and stars?  _ Greg found that he had to think back to find where that name rang a bell. He was still learning how to keep all his thoughts sorted in his head, having finally started to form what he lovingly called a ‘mind shed’ compared to an office or the palace that Sherlock apparently had, very much feeling that everything was sort of clumped together in piles, but at least the piles were labeled now. 

“In our first life together, I had wanted to take in a baby and name her Elise. I was sad because you had convinced me that it wouldn’t work out with my fighting as a gladiator, because I didn’t know then until much later in life that you were immortal…” He murmured, smiling to himself at the memory before leaning up to kiss Mycroft slowly on the lips. “Elise Lestrade Holmes. I like it.” 

“And she will be well loved and cared for, and possibly spoiled rotten,” Mycroft chuckled, returning the kiss sweetly. 


	46. XLV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your continued patience with us! I know we've been delaying and skipping updates, so it means a lot you guys still stick around and support us!

          Greg groaned a heavy sigh as he dropped himself onto the sofa after a long day at work, pulling a blanket over his lap and just trying to warm up in front of the fire for now. Becoming D.C.I. had sounded great on paper, especially going into the winter, but spending four hours overseeing a case that he didn’t even know, in the middle of a very wet January, was nothing short of torture. Finally getting warm enough that he was just angry about being cold and wet, he looked over at the pile of magazines they had collected about the latest and greatest baby things on the market. He and Mycroft simply couldn’t decide on anything, and he kept thinking that they would know when they found the right thing for their little Elise after wanting her for so long, but they couldn’t even decide on a colour for the nursery. Rubbing his face trying to push the frustration of the day aside, Greg flipped through a few pages of one of the magazines, tilting his head slightly to the side at the sound of the front door opening and closing.

          “I’m in here, love, trying to warm up.” Pulling some of the blankets back to invite Mycroft to sit next to him, Greg leaned into his partner’s side and closed his eyes, linking their hands together in silence for a moment before speaking up. “I think we’re trying too hard to get everything perfect right now,” He admitted with a soft laugh, lifting their hands up so he could kiss Mycroft’s knuckles. “We’ve already agreed to do gender neutral colours for her room, and honestly? It doesn’t matter if she loves it or not, once she gets her own personality then we can change it. We both like the look of dark stained wood, and we have most of the same tastes in furniture, it’s just the look of the crib that we keep changing our minds on. We keep getting into debates about clothes and diapers and formula, but we can figure that out later, you know? I spent half my day out in the rain today, I don’t want to argue or debate this anymore, I just want to move on and actually get things done.” 

          “I understand the sentiment, and I do not wish to argue anymore, but we can’t keep putting off these decisions, because at some point, she will be here, and then it will be too late,” Mycroft sighed, rubbing his thumb across the back of his hand. “I didn’t think that these decisions would be this difficult, or that we would disagree on such fundamental topics…” 

          “I know,” Greg laughed softly, chewing his lip for a moment before an idea came to mind. “Why don’t we just… force ourselves to compromise? We both want new things for her, so it’s not like we’re arguing over sentiment versus safety, so let’s make a list of everything we need to decide on, put them all in a bowl, and then we each draw one and what we draw, we get to decide. So if I draw… paint colour, and I say yellow, that’s it. We know what each other hates, so it’s not like I’m going to say pink just to piss you off. Sounds fair enough?” He offered, knowing it wasn’t a perfect fix for everything, but at least it would get them past their stalemate on the topic. “Once we have everything decided, we can put it all out and adjust it so that it goes together, that way her nursery doesn’t look like we cut out pictures from magazines and made some random note style for her room.” Instead of disagreeing, Mycroft just quietly moved out of the room, Greg frowning as he watched after him, not sure if the man was going to return, that was until he heard him rustling about in the kitchen. It didn’t take long till he returned with a bowl and other supplies, sitting back down and handing him a pen. It only took a few minutes to sort everything out, folding the little bits into halves and putting them all in the bowl. 

          “Alright, you go first my love,” Greg tried to smile at Mycroft even though he could tell the man wasn’t happy about how he had come up with this idea, biting back the urge to challenge him to come up with a better plan. He hated when they got into these sorts of moods with one another, both of them knowing that the other was right, but feeling they were more so because of their own opinions on how things should be done. Shuffling around the strips of paper, Greg pulled out one and opened it before laying it out between them. 

          “Baby monitors, and you’re right. We should keep with the security feed that we already have in the house. I turned my radio onto the wrong channel today at the scene and picked up one that was nearby. They’re too easy to hack, and even if no one wanted to spy on Elise, they could spy on you. Your turn.” He could see the surprise in Mycroft’s eyes and smiled as the man leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips before grabbing a piece of paper. 

          “Nappies. As much as I want cloth nappies, and I could have a service take care of them, the idea of storing them in the house instead of just tossing them in the trash seems like more of a burden than I would rather deal with, and I know you prefer the disposable kind. I’m sure my staff will thank you as well,” Mycroft chuckled, taking his hand. 

          “It’s a great idea in theory, but it is pretty gross. There’s companies that do that sort of thing, but… yeah,” He shrugged, reaching into the bowl again, glad now that they had at least been able to sort out two ideas without digging their heels in and getting into another argument about nothing. “So, crib. I still think simple is best. As long as it’s well made, there’s no reason for it to be ornate, and I like that one that can change with them into a big kid’s bed,” Greg shrugged, looking to Mycroft and hoping that he would still agree with him. “I also think it’s cool that it can do that, but that’s besides the point,” He added with a smirk. 

          “As long as you don’t mind the cost, and that it is dark mahogany,” Mycroft raised his brow, Greg rolling his eyes but deciding that it was fair enough to give him that much, even if it would be ridiculously expensive. Some habits died hard, and not spending ridiculous amounts of money on things just because he could was one of them. 

          “Formula. I have spoken with Anthea, and she has agreed to pump for as long as she can and feels comfortable with, but if at any point it gets to be too much, we can switch to formula, but it will be the highest end brand with the softest, most sensitive solution.” Greg nodded in agreement, knowing that was never truly a disagreement as much as a difference in opinion. Greg fully agreed that breast milk was beast, but simply didn’t want to burden Anthea and knew that formula really didn’t have any major problems with it, since once it truly came down to it, a fed baby was better than not. 

          “Once she starts getting older though, I still think we should give her little bits of formula now and again just so that if she does ever need it, she won’t balk at it and then leave us with a crabby, hungry baby.” He pointed out, drawing the next paper and seeing that it was colour. “My vote’s yellow, lavender, or light green, but not all three, that would be ugly.” 

          “Yellow or Lavender. I’m sorry, but I’m still not fond of the green,”

          “Lavender then. Feminine without being obnoxious. We could even do Lavender and a light grey.” Greg smiled with a nod, humming as Mycroft pulled another paper from the bowl and read it aloud. 

          “Childcare…”  He wanted to to tell his parents about him being immortal now, which would make things easier for Elise, but he simply didn’t know how to bring it up with them or his sister. Sighing and leaning back against the sofa, Greg ran his hand through his hair as he tried to think. At least this way of going about sorting their disagreements had focused them on finding a way to compromise. “I mean… I’ll get some parental leave once she’s born, and you have your office here, so you can do some work from home, and I could easily prove that your office has about fifty more levels of clearance than I’m sure my Super even knew existed, so I could probably get permission to do work from home too. Not to mention, I’m sure Molly and Mrs. Hudson will probably volunteer to watch over her too…” 

          “I will try and work from home as much as I can in the beginning, and I have offered before to set you up in the office as well to have your own desk, so we can have you work from home as well. I think I would feel comfortable with Molly watching her, I just worry with Mrs. Hudson, and what telling her would do…” 

          “Only, outside of setting up my office in the basement, the only other spare room is being converted over to Eli’s nursery.” Greg pointed out with a chuckle, honestly not caring about having his own dedicated space for working from home. He’d done it plenty of times before, just with his laptop at the kitchen table, and as long as he had a power plug, he was good. 

          “I meant setting up a space in my office for you, my dear. There is plenty of room to have a second desk and set up for you, we wouldn’t have to convert another room.” 

          “I think with childcare, it’s simply going to boil down to figuring out what to do when the both of us have to go in at the same time, and who would be the one to watch over her. Even then, I’m sure Ryan and Anthea would offer to watch over her for a night or two if it came to something that extreme. I think it’s more just… who we trust knowing about our immortality than who we trust to watch over her.” 

          “I think even if we have someone watch her that isn’t us, I would feel better if we had extra security detail at the house during those times. We both have high profile jobs that lead dangerous people to be our enemies, and I shudder to think if any of them ever tried to go after Elise.” Mycroft handed the bowl back to him, rubbing his hands over his face. 

          “Well, yeah, of course,” Greg agreed easily to the idea of having heightened security when they had a sitter over, knowing that they were good at their job and wouldn’t have to scare off whoever it was that was watching over their baby, especially if it was Molly who was already skittish on the best of days. “Changing table,” He read out loud as he pulled another piece of paper out, shrugging as he sat it down to the side. “I don’t even remember why this was a disagreement except just to go along with the look of whatever crib we have. We don’t need a mahogany changing table when you know good and well that it’s gonna get gross at least a few times. I say just get one that matches the style of the crib, but we’re not spending hundreds of dollars on a piece of furniture that is literally designed to get poop and pee on it.” 

          “You do not get that sort of thing on the changing table, that is why you have a mat over top of it.” Mycroft balked, Greg holding back a chuckle. The man took the last paper out of the bowl, unfolding it and giving a small sigh. “I know this is one we can wait on, but it’s something we should discuss, even if not tonight. Education.” Greg shook his head when he heard what it was, shrugging since they both knew exactly where the other stood. He saw no problem with public school, knowing perfectly well that some were better than others, but they lived in a fantastic part of London so of course they would have a good school to go to. 

          “My, we can’t just keep her tucked away without socialising with others her age. I know you disagree with how they teach… everything, but I don’t even know where to start. We can teach her plenty, but we can’t be the only people she knows.” Greg pointed out, mindful to keep his voice soft so they wouldn’t fall into another argument. “It is something we can do later, and even ask her what she wants to do… let’s not worry about that now. It might not even become something, she may have her own ideas of what she wants by then.” 

          “I don’t want to keep her tucked away, but I don’t want our daughter held back in her education by an archaic learning systems that can’t even get the basics of human history right.” Mycroft sighed, setting the bowl and papers aside before turning back to face him. “We don’t need her getting into trouble in school for doing things beyond her years, or heaven forbid she writes a paper or does a project on some historical event, and comes to us because we were actually there, and then gets bad marks in school because it doesn’t match what the textbooks say.” Frowning, he reached forward to take the man’s hands. 

          “My sun,” Greg sighed, lifting his hands to his lips and pressing them against Mycroft’s knuckles. “It’s okay. Children learn things differently in primary than they do in secondary. Let her learn what they say, make friends, and then as she gets older and starts learning more about her immortality, we can teach her about the past then. I’m still learning what’s real and what’s simply been taught to me over the years.” He pointed out softly, rubbing his thumb over the back of Mycroft’s hand to comfort him. “We have so much time to worry about this, love. There’s no point in panicking now, to find out later that it’s a non issue and she naturally takes to the idea of having two lives.” Greg shrugged, leaning over and kissing the man to soothe him. “I love you. Don’t worry. It’ll be okay.” 

          “I love you too, my moon.” He smiled, knowing that wasn’t exactly the final decision for how they were going to teach their little one, but at least it didn’t need to be decided for the sake of getting Mycroft’s contractors in to redesign one of the rooms for the nursery, and order furniture to be delivered to their home. “We should come up with a nickname for Eli, too. I’m your moon and you’re my sun, but calling her our little planet just sounds odd,” He blurted out after a pause in their conversation, finding himself beginning to fall into a fit of giggles simply from the randomness of the thought. “You were always better at the stars than I was, there’s got to be something out there we can come up with to call her,”  

          “Gregory, her name is Elise. Calling her Eli, when said aloud, is no shorter than her proper name, and we gave that to her for a reason. Must you always come up with a shortened version of people's names?” Greg laughed as Mycroft scolded him, shuffling under the blankets so that he could lay out on the sofa with his head in the other man’s lap to watch the fire. 

          “Cause Eli’s cute, that’s why, and you’re the only person in the world besides my Mémé who calls me Gregory,  _ My. _ ” He dragged out the other’s nickname with a grin, turning so he could kiss his partner’s leg before settling his head back down again. “I know it will come with time, but it’s going to be a very hard five months to wait to meet our baby girl after waiting so long for her.” 

          “Until this life, you have always gone by Gregory, never a shortened version, so excuse me if that is the name that I prefer. I do believe I, along with your Mémé, are in the right as you have gone over two thousand years being called such, and such a short time now going by Greg.” Greg hummed, wanting to argue that Mycroft was wrong and that he had always gone by the same name, but of course he was technically right. It had only been among his birth family or close friends that he had been ‘Greg’ up until now, but habits died hard on both sides. “It will be a hard five months, but it will be worth it. Only a little bit longer and we can see a clear picture of her too.” Content to let it go and think back on their little one, he closed his eyes with a content sigh as he focused on the feeling of Mycroft’s fingers lightly brushing along his scalp. 

          “I can’t wait. Every time Anthea gives us a new picture I always show it to everyone in the office. They can’t wait to meet her, either. Or for me to shut up about it. One or the other.” 

          “Gregory, if they have learned nothing from your love of Miles, and they somehow think that having our little girl in our arms will have you  _ shut up about it,  _ they don’t know you very well. It will be here sooner than we both know.” Though it didn’t feel like it now, and it felt like five months was going to be the longest, drawn out period of time for him, he also knew that it would creep up on them both. 

*****

          Stepping out of the car, John gave a short wave to the cabbie and shoves his hands in his pockets, sighing as he looked to the pub in front of him, somewhere new that Greg had called him to, said he had something important to ask him. It had been a bit since they had a dinner together, or a pint, but it wasn’t like the man had been absent either, always shooting him a message just to check in, and even stopping by every now and again, now that he was out of that damn hotel, and in another flat. He still couldn’t move back to 221b, but he couldn’t stand to stay in that room any longer. Stepping through the front door, his eyes scanned the room, looking for that familiar face, only to see the D.C.I. sitting at the table and waving him over, John relaxing just a bit upon seeing him. 

          “Evening mate,” Taking a seat, he waved over the server, ordering a pint before looking at the menu, his stomach rumbling. “You alright?” 

          “Fantastic, mate. Anthea got some new scans of the baby, you can see her little face and everything! Still a bit alien looking, but definitely a baby and not some blur you have to take their word for.” Greg grinned, immediately taking out his mobile to show him pictures. Deciding on a burger and some chips, John quickly put in his order, thanking the server and taking a swig of his beer that she had brought him before sighing and looking up at the screen. It was good, having someone around him that wasn’t walking on eggshells with him, or that was constantly trying to coddle him, Greg smiling like a tragic past was not hanging between them. Looking to the photos, a smile graced his lips for the first time in what seemed like forever. 

          “You seem happy, mate, and I’m happy for you. You’re going to make a great dad,” His voice shook as he tried not to feel a tad jealous that Greg’s life was moving on, that he was doing so well after all that had happened with Sherlock. 

          “How about you? Gotten the last of your boxes sorted?” Shrugging when asked about himself, John took another swig of his drink before running his hand over the back of his neck. 

          “Getting there. It feels good to be out of that hotel, but it’s still not…” he almost choked on the word home, but couldn’t bring himself to say it, closing his eyes and breathing deep through his nose. 

          “It’s not the same, I know, but I’m glad you’re moving on a bit, it’s all you can really do. Have you talked to James much lately?” Giving another shaky smile, he looked down at his hands clasped on the table, now fidgeting and wishing the attention was elsewhere, but knowing that Greg wasn’t going to scrutinize his every move like so many others. 

          “I did reach out to him… and we have a skype date coming up here soon, just before he’s to head out on another mission.” He had been holding back, shutting others out, but finally reaching out to James, letting the man back in, and knowing that he was still there, it was almost a relief, a weight off his shoulders. “I’m sorry, I’m shit for company…” Luckily, the server brought over his food and he had something to occupy his hands with so he didn’t have to watch them shake, rubbing them over his legs to clean them of the sweat that was building up on them. 

          “You’re fine, John. Really, I understand.” 

          “I-I’m trying to move on, I’m not in a hotel anymore, and I took your advice to get in touch with James, it’s just… not as easy as everyone keeps implying that it would be. My therapist seems to think I can just move on, as if there was some sort of time limit on how long you can grieve for a friend, but that’s the messed up bit of it all… isn't it? That Sherlock wasn’t just that… was he? I have all these memories with him, of him, so I knew him for longer, there’s something more there, even if we weren’t… well, you know…” 

          “Never mind before, he was your best friend and you still lost him. There’s a definite difference between moving on and forgetting, and people are idiots and try to say they’re the same thing all the time. I don’t expect you to ever forget him, John, I’m just glad you’ve moved on enough to actually have an appetite again, and to be talking with James. I’ll spare you the teasing of having a date this once, but next time it’s fair game,” Greg teased him gently. “If you ever want, I’m sure I could get Mycroft to pull some strings for you, so the two of you could meet up the next time he’s on leave.” Looking up at Greg, John paused for a moment, not sure if he should be angry at the idea that Mycroft was trying to solve all his problems like a damn apology instead of just saying something to his face, or if he should be thankful that the man powerful enough to bring England to her knees, would spend his time paying for him to keep his flat, or pull the necessary strings to get him some personal time with James. Deciding that he had been angry long enough, he gave Greg a short nod, picking up his burger and taking a big bite before he had a chance to say something stupid. It gave him enough time to think before speaking, clearing his throat when he finally swallowed. 

          “Thank you. That would be nice.” 

          “God knows the man’s got enough air miles and hotel points to put you two up for a couple of days. Anyway, I’m glad you and James are talking again. I did invite you out to ask you an important question though, about Elise.” Pausing and putting down his burger, John wiped his hands on his napkin, giving Greg his full attention when he said it was important. “You’re one of my best friends, and I was wondering if you’d be interested in being her godfather once she’s born,” He wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but being asked to be the girl’s godfather was not something that had even been on his radar. Eyes going wide, John stilled for a moment, not sure exactly what to say as no one had really asked him for something like this, and it wasn’t like he was close with any of his family as of late. 

          “Uh, shit mate.. Yeah, that’s….” He shook his head, smiling in disbelief. “Yeah, of course,” 

          “Even before I had my memories back, you were as good as family to me, and I just wanted you to be a part of all of this too. She’s already going to be spoiled like hell, but I can’t imagine not having you a part of her family too.” Greg said with a shrug, a soft smile on his lips. “Anthea and Ryan are going to be godparents too, obviously, seeing as they’re the ones who are sort of making this all possible. Miles is a bit confused by it all, but he at least mostly understands that Elise isn’t really his sister. Right now he just keeps talking about how much he can’t wait to be a big cousin to her, which you have to admit is adorable.” He was still a tad speechless by all of this, not having expected any of it when Greg had asked him out for dinner, instead thinking the man just wanted to check in on him. Giving the man a smile, he let out a small sigh, feeling a tad guilty for being jealous of the man earlier, still feeling the same now, but trying to shove that down, knowing that Greg was trying to reach out, to include him, to bring him into the family, even if he was wary of getting close to anyone that had anything to do with Sherlock. Maybe it was because he knew he had such a deep history with Greg and Mycroft, and the thought of having to relieve those memories and times again now that Sherlock was gone, was more than he could manage at the moment. “Also gives me an excuse to spam the hell out of your phone every time she does anything remotely cute,” 

          “Yes, because godfather or not, I don’t think that fact would have stopped you from sending me photos or messages,” John chuckled, taking a drink from his pint before going back to eating his burger and chips. 

          “Alright, fair enough. Hey, you started work again at a clinic, yeah? Molly mentioned something about it last time I was picking up results from her,” Nodding when asked about the clinic, he waited till he finished his bite before wiping his mouth to speak. 

          “Yeah, started back, it’s been… nice to have some stability, or semblance of a normal schedule. Good to have a routine again.” It had done him a world of good, to get back to the field, but somewhere where no one knew him, well, at least where everyone knew to keep their personal questions to themselves, as it was rather hard to go anywhere in London where he wasn't known, seeing as he had been posted in all the tabloids right alongside of Sherlock. 

          “Have to say I’d nearly forgotten what it was like to have a set schedule. Still not perfect since I cover for other D.I.’s when I have to, but being in the office more has definitely sort of made things feel calmer. I’ve almost convinced Mycroft to consider getting a cat as a pet. As long as it stays in the garden and he doesn’t have to take care of it, which is ridiculous since he’s more the cat person than I am. I’m glad things are normal again, at least, for you.” Whatever normal was anymore. Seeing flashes of the past, remembering your deaths, which hadn’t stopped, and thinking he was seeing Sherlock everywhere he went… that wasn’t normal, but he wasn’t about to tell anyone that. The last time he had shared these things, he was told to go see a psychiatrist, and he couldn’t tell her that he was remembering things from previous lives without being locked up. Sighing, he just gave Greg a quick nod and a fake smile, hoping that they didn’t have to press the topic too much, not need this night to turn into another lecture for him. It wouldn’t be the first, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Greg tried to salvage the rest of their night by talking about football and films that were coming out, but it didn’t last long before they were calling it and standing to head for the door. “Well, I expect to hear details about how your little date with James goes, and don’t think I’m not beyond inviting Anthea and Molly along to have a full on gossip night. Don’t let me always be the one reaching out to do something, yeah?” He could tell that Greg was trying, he really was, and for that he gave the man some credit, it was just hard to have everyone else moving on as if none of this bothered them, even Molly, but yet he was stuck in the debris of Sherlock’s mess. Pulling out a few notes for his meal, John gave the man a short nod and a half smile as they stood ready to leave. 

          “Yeah of course,” It was all he could say, feeling exhausted, even though before all of this, Greg was the only one he could talk to without wanting to go back to his home and be alone. Heading out of the pub, he shoved his hands in his pockets and took a deep breath of the cool night air, deciding that he’d rather walk to him home instead of a cab, the clean air helping silence his thoughts. 

*****

          It had been a couple of week since John had got in contact with him, and what a relief it had been. James had been worried sick when the man didn’t respond, and was really starting to contemplate pulling strings and getting in touch with contacts that could go and check in on the man. Even hearing from the other wasn’t enough though, he wanted to see John, to make sure the man was okay, confirm that he wasn’t locking himself away like he feared, so thankfully he had been able to convince the soldier to skype with him. It was just a stroke of luck that he had a few free days before his upcoming mission, nothing too involved, just an easy go with some crows, but he would be moving locations again. John was his only family though, so of course he was going to take this down time to talk with him. Sitting down in his office, he pulled open the laptop, connecting to the sketchy internet connect he had, even though his second assured him that it would hold up for a video call, Skype loading easily. He knew he still had a few minutes before they had agreed to meet, but his heart was pounding in his chest, just watching the screen and waiting for John’s icon to go green. It was a few minutes after their agreed time, James worrying that John had decided not to get on, that the green light came up and he jumped to send the video invite before the soldier had a chance to change his mind. He would have relaxed even further upon seeing the man, but the sight did nothing but make him worry more. He looked exhausted, and there was something just off behind those sad eyes. It was worse than he had expected, worse than when he had visited him in Germany after being shot, right before they discharged him. 

          “Sir,” 

          “John, you know you don’t need to call me Sir, not anymore. It’s good to see you soldier,” He wanted to chastise him, ask why he hadn’t contacted him sooner, or why he wasn’t taking care of himself, but he knew that would only push John away, and right now, that was the last thing he wanted to do. 

          “You still call me soldier,” James blushed slightly when he was called out, not wanting to admit that he did that purely because the last time he had uttered those words to John, they had been in the hospital together, intimately. A shiver ran up his spine as those thoughts came back again, James quickly clearing his throat and smiling. “I’ve missed you. How are you and the lads? Is anyone still there I would know? You look… you look good. I must look like a ghost to you now, I’ve lost all my tan.” 

          “I’ve missed you as well, John. Life out here isn’t the same without you, and there are quite a few who agree with me. Sheppard in particular, that boy seems to miss you something fierce. I am moving out tomorrow, a basic mission with crows. No where unsafe, just the hills,” he knew John would know exactly where he meant when he said the hills, having been there together, the two of them, but it was still vague enough that it wouldn’t be considered a security breach. John did look like a ghost, but not because he had lost his tan, but he looked like a shadow of his former self. “I know there is sun in London, John. Go out and get some.” There was a teasing tone there, but he meant more to it as well, wanting John to get out, stopping hiding away, and let people back in.

          "Just stay low and don’t wander. And I know there's sun, but it’s cold out here…” He could tell the man had stiffened at his comment, those lips pressed into a thin line as he tried to make excuses. “I um, I’ve started working again. A little clinic, nothing exciting, but it’s work and a good team, so at least there’s that. Maybe someday I can show you my area of town.” 

          “I’m glad you are back to work, you are a great doctor. I do hope to be on leave after this mission, for a week actually, and that was another reason I wanted to get in touch with you. I have always said that I would love to come and visit, as you are the only one worth leaving base for. Is that door still open?” James knew that John was still closing himself off, that he was pushing everyone away, and he hoped that he wouldn’t say no to having him come to London, but there was still that possibility. If he had the pull, he would have left base the second he had heard about Sherlock, but that wasn’t something he could just up and do, even if it was for John. This was the soonest he was granted leave, and he intended on trying to get John to open back up to him, to work through this rough patch, and to take care of his soldier. 

          “That would be nice. I just wish…” It hurt him to see how pained John was, how choked up he got when he still thought about Sherlock. “You two… would have liked each other, I think. Would have been friends.” He hadn’t ever met the detective, but if John thought they would get along, he was sure they would have. 

          “Any friend of John Watson’s, must be a good man,” All he wanted to do was reach out and pull John close, not say anything or give him false promises that everything would be okay, because he knew what losing someone close to you could be like. After a few moments he decided it couldn’t be avoided any longer, especially if John was willing to open up, even just a tiny bit about Sherlock. “John, if you ever need to talk about him, good or bad, anything, I am always hear to lend an ear. You know I am not like everyone else, and I know I didn’t know the man, but… I care about you, Watson.” It was hard watching through a screen, seeing the pain crossover John’s features, those tears streaming down his cheeks, and not being able to do anything about it. His chest felt tight as he looked to the other, waiting for him to get through it, to let him talk, not wanting to interrupt him and then have John close back up. 

          “You would think… after everything we had been through, it would be easier. You know? But it’s not. The bastard jumped  _ right in front of me.  _ Why would he do that? He was my  _ friend.  _ I love you, but I cared about him too… and… just…” John sighed, shaking his head and scrubbing his hands over his face. “I don’t know what to do. I miss you, James. I miss you so much.” 

          “I miss you as well, John, and I’m sorry I cannot be there with you. I know there is nothing I can say to make you feel better, and honestly it will take time. How much time, that is different per person, but you take what you need and don’t let anyone tell you how you should feel, or that you should be over this by now. I know it’s frustrating, but loss is still loss, and watching someone die in front of you…” James’ voice trailed off as his throat felt thick, thinking of that night he almost lost John. “If anyone could relate more to that, I can, so you know you can always come to me with your frustrations. It’s a haunting memory, and we as soldiers have to live with that everyday. I know that particular memory is not something you signed up for, but you are a fighter, and you will make it through. I only wish I could be there to fight by your side. Just please… John, do not close yourself off, do not push those who care about you away. They are going to be there for you when you need it the most.  _ I  _ am here for you…” He let his voice soften, hoping that the man would understand, wishing he could just pull him into his arms. John seemed to be considering what he was saying, which was a good thing, but instead of acknowledging what he had just said, he moved on the conversation, which still worried him. 

          “My mate’s partner is some big wig in the government. Let me know what your flight information is, and they said they would get you first class and could get us a nice hotel in the city. We could make a little holiday out of it and everything,” John offered with a weary smile, and honestly, he was a little surprised by the offer of a first class ticket and a hotel, his eyes going wide for just a moment as he tried to process what that would be like. Who was this friend of his that could pull those sorts of strings?

          “Right, yes, I will get that to you as soon as it is confirmed,” James nodded, sitting up straighter for some reason, looking to John with shock. 

          “The man’s a bastard, he owes me. Don’t worry about it.” John must have seen his shock, laughing softly and shrugging off his straightened posture. James chuckled and shook his head, wanting to know exactly why John was calling this man who would pay for his ticket and hotel, a bastard, but he knew John well enough to be able to tell it wasn’t a topic to start him on. 

          “I’m trying not to push people away, James, but it’s hard sometimes. I’ll be at the airport for you, though. It will be nice to see you again. Actually see you, not just… this.” 

          “I know it is soldier, but I know you will pull through, you always do. It will be a relief for me as well, to see you.” Giving the man a soft smile, he just looked to John, glad that it would only be a few weeks and he would be standing in front of that man, just inches away. 

          “I’ll be on in the evenings. Check in once you get back from your mission?” 

          “I will be sure to check in. It’s just a simple run with the cros. I will be back, safe and sound before you know it.” Safety was always his top priority, and he was always sure to watch his men and bring them all back safe and sound. He was well known for being overly cautious. “Well, I will let you get some rest, as you look like you desperately need it soldier. I will see you soon. Take care, John. Please.” 

          “As long as you get some rest too, Sir. I know you’ve been reviewing the maps repeatedly from how many times you’ve said it’s a simple mission. Keep your head low, James. I’ll see you soon.” 

*****

          It had started out simple enough, just a security screening he had placed on John after Sherlock had gone underground, but then an alert had caught his attention. Mycroft had spent a good amount of time trying to figure out where the tracer was coming from, and how to break their encryption, but whoever was listening to the skype call, their tech was far better than his own, which was a feat in itself. 

          “What’re you doing?” Gregory asked, pushing himself from the doorframe to step into his office, Mycroft looking up to him, his brows furrowed. “Why are you spying on him talking to his old Major? The two of them have a history together, but I hardly think that he’s a threat to Sherlock’s mission, or that John will tell him anything, do you?” 

          “It was just for John’s safety, to make sure the snipers weren’t still watching him, especially since there is still one out there. I fear they may be listening in though, but I’m not sure why this call could be important. Whoever it is, their encryptions is far beyond my reaches. They’re good, scary even,” Mycroft pressed his lips into a thin line, his chest feeling rather tight with uncertainty. 


	47. XLVI

          The hills. That was all she had heard James Sholto say, and it had taken quite a bit of digging and interrogating to figure out just where ‘The Hills’ were. Now that she knew, though, she could go ahead as planned. If she wasn’t allowed to take out John Watson, she could certainly go after those he cared about. Something hadn’t felt right when Moriarty had died, she didn’t believe Sherlock had killed himself, rather that the man was still out there. It only fueled her beliefs when the other snipers had been taken out, one by one, till she was the only one left. Moriarty’s network was slowly being picked apart, and were it not for direct orders from his second, Moran, she would have nipped John right then and there, and possibly even the other two. While those orders stood for  _ those  _ three, they had said nothing about the others, so she had painstakingly hacked into a skype call between John and Major James Sholto, someone John cared deeply for, and she knew would be a rather easy target, what with his current occupational hazards and such. A week later and she was still in Afghanistan, following very closely behind James and his new group of troops, ready and waiting for a moment to strike. She had already mobilised a small group of Afghan infantry who wanted the Brits dead and gone, as well as placed a few IED’s in waiting, knowing that once the chaos started on what was supposed to be a simple and peaceful mission, James was likely to find his way into her path. It wouldn’t take long.  

*****

          It had been an easy patrol, the crows doing as they were told, and everything going according to his very meticulously planned mission. James sighed as he ran the razor over his chin, having just woke with the sun, ready for whatever the day would bring, and knowing they were only a couple days away from being back at base, and he would be on his way to visit John in London. Everything had been arranged, the flight, the hotel, all of it, and all he had to do was make sure they got through this simple mission without a hitch, and he would be homebound. Finishing the last of his shave, James splashed a bit of cool water over his face, grabbing the flannel next to him and drying himself off, looking to the mirror and making sure he hadn’t missed a spot. The other lads were getting ready, most eating a bit of breakfast before they would set off again, and packing their few belongings they had brought, pillows, blankets and the like. They ran very little risks with this mission, being as small and covert as it was, the locals were unaware of their presence and they weren’t going through any active war zones, which made this a piece of cake, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t like being prepared. Moving to finish getting dressed, he packed the last of his things in his bag, tossing it in the convoy, then moving to address his men. They all saw him and immediately stood in a straight line, soldiers position with their backs straight and hands clasped behind them. He didn’t need to say a word, his reputation gave him that much, which made things go far smoother in his opinion, something he would never complain about. 

          “We have a few more days out in these hills, men. So far we have not encountered anything unexpected, but we must always be vigilant, eyes open. We will cross through town today, so do expect some attention from the locals, which is not always good attention. They are a small village though, no arms or weapons that we are aware of, beyond knives or small arms. If we do not disturb them, they will leave us be, but keep your guard up. I am sure you are all wanting to be back at base, in your bunks, and off the sandy ground. Keep up the work and we will all be there in a few days time. We move out in five. At ease gentlemen.” There was little talk as they all packed their things into the vehicles and set off, knowing it was a good hour's drive before they would reach the village. Of course that meant he spent the entire time going over his papers while the other officer drove the vehicle, a few crows in his car keeping watch as they went. 

          It was far too late for anyone to do anything when all went pear shaped. There was little warning, a loud explosion coming from the middle of their convoy, which was enough to distract them long enough for the rest of the attack to proceed. He wasn’t sure how the small group had intel about their location, but that didn’t matter now as they descended upon their group with their guns, screaming and bullets flying in every direction. James’s ears were still ringing from the first explosion, the flames from the vehicle licking at his skin, the heat making the sweat bead up on his forehead. The crows from the vehicles behind the wreck were already out of the car and headed towards the attackers, guns at the ready, the men in his own car jumping out to join them. Grabbing the small pistol he kept in the glove compartment, he slid out, walking behind one of his men as they advanced through the village, his heart aching for the men they had already lost in the destroyed car. Coming up behind his acting Captain, he placed a hand on the man’s shoulder, looking out at the men who stood waiting for them to advance. 

          “Take a group to the west, flank them and I will take a few to the east with me. The rest will stay here and hold the north. Captain… keep those men safe,” The man gave him a short nod before ordering his selected troops to follow, James watching as the others stayed and he looked about, deciding who to bring with him. “Johnson, Milles, Small, follow me!” He commanded, keeping low and heading through the back alleys to flank the militants, making sure to check each street before crossing, being as cautious as he could. There was another loud explosion and his head turned, his heart sinking as he saw it was coming from the area where they had just left, the three men turning to look at him for instruction. “We have to keep going. Turning back won’t do them any good, we need to catch them off guard.” It wasn’t an easy decision, but these sorts of things never were. They managed to get behind the group, neutralizing a few of the threats, that was till the explosion rang through the air, this time hurling them forward, his ears ringing as they hit the ground, the air leaving his lungs as he gasped for breath. It was a few moments before he could open his eyes again, everything blurry as he looked at the scene in front of him, his men being taken down, the explosives eliminating the rest of his team, a cry trying to escape from his dry throat. Milles and Johnson were nowhere to be found, but Small lay next to him the flames starting to creep over his uniform. Pushing himself up, he could feel the ache in his body, but he had to save at least one troop if he could, stumbling over to the other and quickly trying to pat the flames out, hissing as the heat singed his hands. The man was unconscious, but still alive, and he wasn’t sure how many others were still there, but if they could make it back to the vehicles, they could maybe escape with what was left of his group. 

          Standing, his legs shaking, he pulled Small over his shoulders, holding his legs to his chest as he started to make his way back, moving through back alleys and trying to distance himself from the fight. Turning the last corner, he could see the vehicles in his line of sight, a few of his men waiting near the back, fighting off whoever dared come near. Taking a few more steps, he could feel the rush of adrenaline, knowing he was that close to making it out of there with some of his group intact, though not as many as he would have liked, but he would have time to deal with that once those that he could help were safe. Stepping out into the clearing, he turned to look to his right, making sure there wasn’t anyone aimed at the ready, before he heard the screams of his men telling him to fall back. Frowning, he only had the chance to look in their direction when everything went white, a loud ringing in his ears the only sound as a intense heat covered his body and he was thrown to the ground. The pain was more than he had ever felt before, covering the whole left side of his body, spreading from his chest, over his arm, and up to his face. James tried to scream, but no noise could break through the ringing that still echoed in his ears. Doing his best to roll over, he tried to put the flames out, but felt like nothing was working, the burn continuing to spread and eat away at him slowly, more than just fire, a chemical burn that he couldn’t rid himself of with just a roll in the dirt. This was it, he was done for, he wasn’t going to make it out alive, he was sure of it. He had lost the lives of his crows, failed his mission, and worst of all, he would be letting John down. He would never see that man’s face again, and the pain this would cause to the soldier… he feared how John would take it. No. He couldn’t do that to John, not after all the man had been through with Sherlock, he couldn’t give up now. Reaching out with his right hand, he grabbed a handful of sand, screaming as he felt the pain rip through him. He didn’t have water to be able to wash it away, but hopefully the sand would be enough to neutralise it for now. Gritting his teeth as he rubbed the course dirt over his face and side, he panted as he reached for more, his brows knitted together as he felt himself rolling over. Looking up, his vision was blurry as he saw a woman standing above him, but not a local. She was wearing protective armour, nothing military issued, but high enough grade to compete with their own. There was a sly smile on her face as he kneeled down, close enough that he could feel her breath on his face. 

          “Good bye James Sholto.” It was the last thing he heard before she raised her hand above his head, James realising too late was she was about to do, trying to bring his arm up to shield his head before everything went dark. 

*****

          It had been a rather long day, and if Mycroft hadn’t promised he would be home to have dinner with Gregory, he would have stayed in the office until he had finished, but all he managed was a brief break to eat before another phone call came through. Giving his partner an apologetic look, Gregory gave him a sad but understanding smile, kissing him on the forehead before he moved to clean the dishes as he walked off to his office. Sitting down in his chair, Mycroft took a deep breath before answer, knowing this was going to be anything but short. 

          “Holmes,” It was yet another call from the prime minister, more idiotic topics that the man deemed highly important and that needed to be discussed immediately, though Mycroft knew they could at least wait a week till he had dealt with the latest crises MI6 was reporting. “I will handle these complaints as soon as the latest MI6 reports come in, and I have updated project Lazarus, but I do not have time now…” His voice trailed off as he heard a loud knock at the door, his brows furrowing as he wondered why someone had been allowed so close to his home without the security team stepping in. There were very few people that had that sort of clearance, and none of them had said they were stopping by. Of course, the prime minister took his silence as a chance to start up again, but he could hardly pay attention to what he was saying as he heard the shouting from the hall, his frown deepening even more as John walked into his office, the rage clear on his face. Before he could even say a word, his phone was ripped from his hand and thrown against the wall, cracking the screen and most effectively ending his call with the prime minister, but that was the least of his worries when John spun him back to look at him and his fist connected with his nose, the pain cracking through his face as the metallic taste of blood spread over his tongue. 

          “John!” He heard Gregory cry as his partner moved to restrain him, Mycroft moving a handle to cradle his face while the other reached just under his desk and pressed the security button. Gregory was holding the man back, but he was still fighting back. “Stand. Down. Now.” 

          “You were supposed to keep James safe!” John yelled out, still struggling even though his partner now had his arms pinned behind his back. “It was a chemical bomb, you bastard! They don’t have those out there, your enemies do, not mine! I swear to God, if that man dies because of you,” He hissed, tears streaming down his face. “Get me to him. I don’t care how, but you will get me to him, right fucking now, do you understand?!” He could only assume that John was talking about James Sholto, though he had not heard anything as far as an attack went, so he was still in the dark. 

          “I said nothing of the sort,” Mycroft winced through the pain as he reached for the tissues on his book shelf, trying to stop the majority of the blood from getting anywhere else. Granted it still hurt like hell and a broken nose always bled like a waterfall, but he knew it would only take a few minutes before his body would start healing itself. That didn’t make it hurt any less though. “The only deal I have made was to my brother to keep you safe, and I believe I have held up my end to the best of my abilities. As for James, I am not sure to what you are referring. I have not had any reports that something has happened.” There was a quiet rage in his voice as he spat back at John, his security team finally making an appearance, standing in the door and looking between them all. 

          “You think throwing money at me will fix everything?” John hissed, lunging towards him as Gregory scrambled to grab him and pinned his arms once more. 

          “I’ve got him, stand down,” The security team looked unsure, torn between Gregory’s orders and the blood on his face. Standing, he walked closer to the man once he knew his partner had a good hold, staring him down with an icy look. 

          “There was an ambush. James was hit by a fucking acid bomb. He and two other crows are alive right now, that’s-” He started to explain, though fell quiet when Mycroft’s phone on his desk began to ring, a phone he had directly linked to his office for emergencies only, and he couldn’t dial out. “They don’t know if any of them will survive. Get me to him. Now. You want to keep your word to your dead brother you couldn’t save either? Get me. To James. Keep him alive. Fucking do you job for once, and send all those fuckers you keep sending out to protect me, to protect him.” Mycroft paused for a moment, his face blank as he look the man down, anger simmering beneath his skin. 

          “I did not make a promise to  _ fix  _ you, John, just to keep you safe. Do not make accusations about my brother that you know nothing about,” He hissed, his hand falling down, letting the blood run down his face, voice quiet as he stared John down. “Get this one thing clear, John Watson. You would not be here if it were not for my protection. Your life would have ended before Sherlock had the chance to sacrifice everything for you. The only reason I continue to provide my services, unknown to you, is because my brother asked it. You know nothing of the lengths we have gone through to keep you safe. You, Mrs. Hudson, and Gregory. I haven’t been sitting idly by like you seem to think,” There was venom in his voice as he tried to keep himself reigned in, but it was difficult when the man had barged in, screaming, and broke his nose. “We have been carefully dismantling the network that discredited my brother and threatened your life. You are alive because of me and my brother, so instead of coming in here, making accusations and demands, you should be thanking me for keeping you alive. Now, I have had enough of this, please remove Mr. Watson from the premises and remove his clearance for the house,” Mycroft frowned, looking up to his security team and giving them a short nod before taking a seat in his chair and answering the phone on his desk that was still ringing. He knew it was because he had pressed the panic button, and if he didn’t answer it soon, a whole team would be arriving shortly, not just the home staff. 

*****

          “You think I want to be alive like this?” John asked, his voice cracking as he started to go limp in Greg’s arms, the D.C.I. biting his tongue and glaring at Mycroft for how cruel he was being at the moment. “If James dies, what’s the point? If I keep remembering things like I am now, what’s the point in all of this? I’ll just go crazy like Richard without Sherlock, just off me now.” 

          “John,” Greg sighed once it was obvious that Mycroft was done talking and was going to ignore them now, but at least the security team backed off as he walked John back towards the front door. “You won’t become Richard, John. You’re a good man. Angry, yes, but that’s understandable. Let me talk to Mycroft, I’ll get him calmed down and get you out there, okay? I’ll make sure you get there to see him,” He said once they got outside, John pacing around the path trying to blow off steam. 

          “If he dies, there is nothing left for me. There’s no reason for me to-” 

          “John. Stop it. James will pull through, just like you did. Go home, get some sleep.” Greg urged, looking back towards the front door with a heavy sigh. “I don’t know what else to say, but I won’t let you die, and I won’t let you go crazy.” It took a while to convince John to go stay at a friends for the night, ringing up Mike in front of him to make sure he could bunk on the sofa for the night before leaving in a cab. Returning inside with a heavy sigh, Greg shook his head as he made his way back to their bedroom and the ensuite where Mycroft was washing him up and trying to sort out what to do with his shirt. “Let me see it, it just needs to soak in cold water for a bit. Nothing I haven’t cleaned up before,” He murmured, not sure what to say at the moment. Everyone’s temper was on edge, and getting into a fight with Mycroft was the last thing he wanted at the moment. “I just… I feel like John needs to know that Sherlock is still alive. He’s falling apart, and not moving on like we had hoped. He says he doesn’t love Sherlock, but clearly he still does in some way or another, and… I don’t know. I don’t know what else to do right now, if there’s anything that can be done.” He shrugged, keeping his attention on rinsing out the blood stains in the sink and biting his tongue from lecturing Mycroft about how he had treated John. Greg could only hope that once things calmed down again, his partner would feel guilty for how he had snapped at John. “He’s scared, and honestly I don’t blame him.” 

          “Scared or not, that does not excuse him attacking me and breaking my nose. I had no such agreement to protect James, and he has been nothing but ungrateful for the stops that I have pulled for him. Sherlock asked that I care for him while he was away, and I have done that. He has a roof over his head, all his bills taken care of, a job wherever he wished… We cannot tell him about Sherlock, not with that sniper still out there, especially when I am certain they were the one to hack that skype call, and possibly the one who caused James’ accident. John is lucky that after that little display, I will continue my support.” Mycroft frowned, walking out of the bathroom and to the bedroom. Greg sighed, closing his eyes and simply leaning against the sink, knowing it was pointless to argue with Mycroft about John. They both knew John was a stubborn and proud man, that he had always been and clearly always would be, wanting to provide for himself and not be waited on. It was what Sherlock had always loved about him. Letting Mycroft leave to get changed for the night, Greg hung up the shirt once he had gotten the last of the blood out of the fabric, knowing they would have to wait until morning to see if it could be saved or not, but at least it didn’t cost anything to try. Getting himself changed, Greg joined his partner in bed, turning to face him and check over his nose. 

          “I know it hurts, but I want to make sure it’s not out of alignment.” He explained in a whisper, barely ghosting his fingers over the bruised skin to make sure everything was where it was supposed to be. 

          “Yes, it does. I’m going to look ridiculous for the next few days while this heals, not to mention the pain medication I will be using to stop the damned throbbing.” Mycroft sighed, moving his hands up to rub at his temples. 

          “John doesn’t want to be taken care of, love. Maybe you should stop doing everything for him. Just leave the security, but he wants to provide for himself, as he can do that. Paying off his bills isn’t going to save him from his gun at the end of the day, but feeling like he’s actually doing something will.” 

          “Fine. If you think that is best, it doesn’t make me feel any worse to cut off the support. I will keep the security in place, just because Sherlock would be even more of a pain if he ever found out, but if he doesn’t want help, so be it. He shall receive nothing from me after this little stunt of his.” Greg knew that nothing would come from continuing on the conversation from there, simply leaning over once more to press a gentle but loving kiss to his husband’s lips, doing what he could to pour his love into the action without hurting him. 

          “Don’t worry, meum sol. Things always find a way of sorting themselves out. Everything else can change, but some things…” He murmured, linking their left hands together so their wedding bands lined up side by side, smiling over at the worn metal. “Stay the same. It might be a hell of a ride to get to it, but it will eventually.” Greg leaned over to shut off the lamp by his bedside before pressing another lingering kiss to the top of his head. He wanted to tell his lover that it was nothing to worry about, but he knew that was far from the truth, especially with Anthea’s pregnancy adding one more card to the deck of things that could potentially go horribly wrong if they couldn’t find the last sniper. The best he could do, though, was try and keep Mycroft calm about as much as possible, and stand beside him through everything else. 

*****

> _ Mycroft,  _
> 
> _ Scribo vobis prohibere molesta est mihi, dicens vestri 'sollicitus est mei. Scimus ut suus 'mendacium, Dicit enim Gregori Qoud ut non putat vestra Mœstum factum est cor glaciei. Im 'etiam alia ratio est scribo, vidi in aliqua nuntium. James Sholto et John amicus esse bonum. Me legit Verbum quod deterioratus est et rediit ad London, Et est nocuerunt.  Sunt minis in animam suam. Uti potestate vestra auxilium James. Aeterna fac James relinquere  London, pro sua etiam protectione. Tu debes mihi. Im 'a domo: occidere sicariorum qui comminabatur: tradebat ut occidere virum tuum, vitam. John de hoc beneficium non scrutari curet, Et ego rogabo in locum suum. Auxillium Sholto eum.  _
> 
>  
> 
> _ Et fratrem vestrum _
> 
> _ William _
> 
>  
> 
> Mycroft, 
> 
> I am writing so you will stop bothering me, saying that you are worried about me. We know that is a lie, so that Gregory won't think you have a heart of ice. I am also writing for another reason, something I saw in the news. James Sholto is a good friend of John's. I read that he had returned to London and was hurt; that there were threats on his life. Use your connections to help James. Make him leave London for his own protection. You owe me. I am away from home, killing the snipers that threatened your husband's life. John will never ask for such a favor, so I will in his stead. Help Sholto. 
> 
>  
> 
> Your brother, 
> 
> William. 

 

          Greg had got home first to find the letter from Sherlock in the post, opening it out of curiosity to see what he had to say and frowning when he saw that it was written in Latin. Mycroft had been teaching him how to read in it, his verbal fluency and being able to read the letters helping him at least stumble his way through. It made his chest ache to see how Sherlock was still acting to protect John in any way he could, though how snarky Sherlock still was to Mycroft left a bitter taste on his tongue. They were all trying to do what was right, though what that was, was getting harder and harder to tell as the days passed. Distracting himself with making dinner, fish and vegetables steamed in white wine, Greg couldn’t help but laugh to himself as he heard Mycroft come through the front door right as he found himself sneaking a few bites of ice cream straight from the container while he waited for their food to cook. 

          “Hey My. How was work?” He asked over his shoulder as he turned, keeping the tub behind his back with a smile. The man gave him a soft smile as he walked across the room, taking the treat from his hands and setting it on the counter, leaning in and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. 

          “It was about as good as can be expected, but everything is better now that I am here with you.” Greg smiled as he wrapped his arms around Mycroft’s shoulders, resting his cheek against the man’s head just happy to hold him. Things had mostly settled between them, the nursery nearly completed save a few details that they wanted to do themselves, like the pictures and final decorations to put on the walls and hang over the crib. John had thankfully avoided them, and Greg had used Mycroft’s clearance to get information about the Major’s condition, mostly going through Anthea, and it was both a blessing and a curse to find out that James was the only man from that day to survive. Of course the paparazzi couldn’t leave well enough alone and loved the story, which only drew attention from every direction that no one wanted. “I felt the baby kick today, Anthea was at her desk and she said that Elise was moving, so I got to feel her,” About to mention Sherlock’s letter, Greg gasped when Mycroft said he had felt Elise move, pulling back just enough to give a dramatic pout. 

          “Not fair! She’s my daughter too!” He said with a smirk, grinning back at Mycroft as he leaned up to kiss his forehead. “You know… we never decided on what she was going to call us.” 

          “Yes, well I am sure you will get to feel it soon.” Mycroft dropped his arms as Greg stepped off to check on the food, moving to set the table for them. “I thought we had discussed this. You will be dad, or daddy if you wish, and she will call me Tata.” He knew how important it was to Mycroft to raise their daughter bilingual in Latin, having already tried to do so from the start with Miles, but that didn’t change the fact that with the evolution of language, certain words simply didn’t quite sound the same anymore.

          “I’m sorry, I know what it means, I remember calling my dad that long ago, but…” He trailed off into another fit of snickering, Mycroft’s unamused glare in return only making it worse. “I’m sorry love, I’m twelve. Love you,” Greg apologised with a grin, taking the bottle of wine from the man’s hold before leaning in and kissing him to gain his forgiveness. 

          “You are incorrigible, Gregory.” 

          “I was thinking of you as the kind to take Papa anyway, so it certainly fits. Now come eat dinner before it gets cold,” He smiled, glad to see that he was so easily forgiven for his silliness, their dinner falling into a comfortable silence as they ate. “Sherlock wrote us. Well, you. It was in Latin. I was mostly able to read it, but I think you should too.” 

          “I am glad to see that your Latin is improving then my dear, you are a very quick learner. What did my brother have to say this time? Has he found the final sniper?” Mycroft smiled, humming as he took a forkful of fish. Greg smiled at how appreciative Mycroft always was of his cooking, even when it was something as simple as what he had put together for them that night. 

          “It’s still tricky to remember all the ways the letters change in pronunciation, especially when they are all used differently in English,” He explained, though he was glad that Mycroft was as proud as he was for him. “He hasn’t, no. He didn’t make any comment of it actually. He said that he had seen the news coverage of Sholto where he was…” Greg started carefully, knowing that John was a tender subject still. “He wants you to help James, get him out of London for his safety. If you’re willing, I’ll talk with John, see if he can get James to agree as well, instead of just appearing with a moving crew.” Mycroft stiffened, setting down his silverware and wiping his mouth as he sat straight laced in his chair. Greg let him think silently for a few minutes, nibbling on a carrot as he toyed with a few ideas in his head as well. “If you’d rather leave John out of this, I could go speak with James on my own. Going to John would just make him ask why you changed your mind, and we can’t tell him that it was Sherlock who requested it. If I could get James to talk to me, maybe we could skip over everything else.” He offered, hoping that his partner would agree without getting more upset than he could tell he already was. It was a blessing and a curse, everyone in the family being headstrong enough to stand up to one another, and not be spooked when Mycroft pulled his power or Sherlock decided to deduce every little humiliating detail of your life, but it also meant that when someone decided to dig their heels in about something, nothing was going to change their mind. “James is innocent in all of this, Mycroft. John isn’t the one who asked, he hasn’t even contact me since, please?” 

          “Do as you wish, and work with my security team, but I want no part of it.” Mycroft kept his expressions schooled, picking up his silverware and quietly returning to his food. 

          “Thank you, Tata,” Greg said with a fond smile, careful to make sure that there was no sarcasm in his voice as he used the name and reaching under the table to squeeze Mycroft’s knee. He could tell the man wasn’t happy about the request, but he prayed his partner also knew that he wouldn’t have brought it up if he didn’t think it was worthwhile. 

*****

          It had been another day, the swarms of people outside him home, the flash of cameras through the curtains and the anxiety and pain still creeping their way through him. It was miserable. He had refused to leave the house, especially after the death threats had been thrown out on his life, never having expected this sort of lash back from a horrible tragedy that had happened while in the line of fire. Looking out the window through the curtains at the crowd of people, James sighed as he pressed his lips into a thin line, pulling his left arm closer to him as he had to stop himself from wanting to scream at them, telling them to leave him alone. He was already in a dark state, having lost a whole group of crows, been badly injured himself, and he did the one thing he had told John not to, he cut himself off from everyone, including the man himself, just wanting the ground to swallow him whole. In fact, a few weeks ago he had written a letter to John, breaking it off, and telling him that he should move on, that he had made him wait too many times, while they were in the military, after John returned, and he would be waiting now till he could piece himself back together. The man deserved more. 

          Frowning when he noticed a police officer outside his home, telling the people outside to leave, he wasn’t sure what the man was doing, or why he was telling everyone off, as there hadn’t really been a police presence since his return. He was even more surprised when he walked up to the door, knocking and talking loud enough for him to hear. 

          “James Sholto? My name’s Greg Lestrade. I work with the Scotland Yard, I’m a friend of John Watson.” His brows drew together as he listened, hearing that the man knew John, but that John wasn’t there. “Look, mate…  Sir, I know about what happened. The attack, the death threats. John doesn’t know I’m here, he didn’t ask me to come, but… he talks about you. A lot. I know he cares about you, that he… anyway, look. I just want to talk to you. I can get you out of London, somewhere those damn paparazzi won’t follow you, and a security team to keep you safe. I can get you help, whatever you need.” Moving to the door, he hesitated a moment before undoing the locks and pulling it open just enough so that the man could only see the right side of his face, searching to see if he could see a sign of this being a prank. 

          “What do you want from me in return?” His voice was rough, he had not used it in days… weeks… he wasn’t sure. 

          “Convince John not to break my partner’s nose again the next time they run into each other? May I come in?” Stepping back after a few when he determined he wasn’t lying, he made sure to shut the door behind the office, the room looking rather dark. 

          “Why’d John do that? They must have deserved it. John doesn’t hurt someone without a reason.” Wincing as he shifted wrong, his arm stinging, he gave shaky smile to the other. “I’d offer tea,” But doing so was difficult without the use of his other arm. Sitting down on the stool in the kitchen, he sat straight, trying to give himself some semblance of pride, but knowing he looked an utter mess. 

          “It’s fine, really. My partner is Sherlock’s brother, Mycroft. He works in the government and has a lot to say, but John still blames him for Sherlock’s death. One of the doctors called him when you came in, and he thought Mycroft should have been able to keep you safe. We can get you someplace protected, and you don’t have to worry about the cost. We’ll cover it. I’ll cover it. John’s my friend, and you mean a lot to him. I can’t do anything more for Sherlock, so I can at least do right for you.” So this was the man who was with the government official, the one who had offered to purchase his first class ticket and a hotel. Why John blamed Sherlock’s own brother for his death was beyond him, but he was sure there was more to the story as the John he knew wouldn’t just attack a man without a good reason. Nodding as the officer spoke, he looked out the window, noting that the crowd was starting to come back now. 

          “I understand that you are John’s friend, and he has mentioned you, but I have to wonder, why help me? Why cover my costs to live undisturbed? John did not come to you, so you say…” Turning to look back at the other, he could feel his chest tighten as he thought about John, how his heart ached and even though he so desperately wanted to be with the man, he couldn’t let him see how broken he was now. “Why do I matter that much to you and your partner, and why does John’s happiness matter so much, after he attacked your husband?” He was assuming it was his husband, from what he had heard John say, and how the officer talked about the other man, but he wasn’t sure, figuring the man would correct im if it bothered him. “I don’t deserve this kindness. Everyone wants me dead, blames me for the pain they are feeling, for the loss of their sons. They are right, it is my fault, I should have taken better watch and care of them.” His voice was soft as he looked down, his good hand in a fist on his knee. 

          “Because Sherlock was a good man, a brilliant man, but one hell of an arse. John was pretty much his only friend, and before he died, when he thought that was going to happen, he made Mycroft and I promise to take care of him. John cares about you, and if keeping you safe can make him feel a little happier and a little more whole again, then dammit, I’m going to do just that. Major, I work in homicides with the Yard. If there are two things I know from being D.C.I. it’s that the public is full of idiots, and those that are truly guilty of the crimes those shits out there are saying you are, never show the kind of guilt that you feel right now. You're right, John doesn’t hurt anyone unless he feels they deserve it. He also doesn’t trust and care about those he doesn’t think deserve it either, and the way he talks about you? I know you’re a good man.” A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as the man tried to comfort him, his guilt easing for just a brief moment as he looked to the officer. 

          “For John then.” James stood, reaching out with his good hand to shake the other man’s. He couldn’t be there for John like he had wanted, and he did want John to move on and be happy, and if knowing he was safe and out of the public eye would put the soldier’s mind at ease, he would do just that.

          “For John,”  

*****

          Resting his head on the corner of the desk with a frustrated groan, Greg came to the conclusion that Anthea was an ordained Saint. Seven months pregnant carrying his and Mycroft’s child so they could have their family, and continuing to do nearly all of the day to day tasks that came with working with Mycroft,  _ and  _ helping him sort out what was quickly becoming an ongoing mess with putting James up in a country safe house with security. The Major had become fantastically picky about who was to work with him, consistently firing people on a near daily basis since he had moved a month ago and rarely ever gave a good reason save that he didn’t like them. Still Anthea patiently helped Greg sort out what to do next without upsetting Mycroft, though the D.C.I. was sure that the little treats he always brought in helped keep her in better spirits as well. 

          “Do you think it would be worth going to John and seeing if he’d be willing to talk to Sholto?” Greg asked, his face still half buried in papers before turning just enough to look over at Anthea with a tired and vaguely amused smile. “I’m so glad this is all happening now and not in a few weeks when you’re out on leave. I’m sure you disagree, but at least it seems that little Elise has got herself somewhere comfortable for now while we work this out.” He said as he reached out, still pausing as he always did for Anthea’s permission to rest his hand on her belly, and rubbing his fingers lightly over the last place he had felt the baby press again. “I supposed it’s just a question if John will go, and if he does, will James listen.” 

          “Gregory, you know you always have permission, same as when I had Miles. Actually, even more so now than then, if that’s possible.” 

          “When you say it like that,” Greg laughed as Anthea took his hand, feeling a fleeting kick before Elise stilled under his touch. “Bébé fille, je veux que tu bouge.”  _ Baby girl, I want to feel you move.  _

          “You really don’t know why Sholto is firing these  _ men _ ?” Anthea questioned, raising a brow to him. “The man is back from war, injured and alone, having shut out the one  _ man  _ that mattered most to him. If you think you can get John to go and talk to him, James  _ will  _ listen, or at least the two of them can finally work this out. I don’t think that letter James wrote to John did either of them any good.”  He chuckled, rubbing his thumb across Anthea’s belly as she continued to challenge him about why James kept firing everyone, though of course she would notice the trends while he was scrambling just to try and keep everything afloat. 

          “Bit like how when Mycroft and I first got together and I said I wanted to take things slow?” Greg asked, cringing at the memory all over again. He had thought he was doing the right thing, but clearly he hadn’t with the whole situation back then. “The two of them don’t know how to function without one another. I’ll bloody kidnap him if I have to so they’ll talk to one another.” He said bluntly before laughing. “God, I’ve spent too much time around the two of you. Text me what you’d like for lunch and I’ll get it on my way back.” He said with a nod, standing and parting with a quick kiss to Anthea’s head before making his way out to his car, texting John in the lift to see when his lunch break was so they could talk for a minute. 

*****

          It had been rather slow at the clinic, which was never good as it made the day drag, and it allowed him down time to think about everything that was wrong with his life, like how Sherlock was still gone, and how James now wanted nothing to do with him, wouldn’t even talk to him. Sighing, John dropped off a patient file at the nurses station, smiling to the new hire who had just started a few days ago. She was friendly enough, pretty too, and he thought her name was Mary, but he wasn’t sure he was remembering that right. 

          “Good afternoon,” Giving her a tight smile and a short nod, he could see her light right up, looking to him as if he were her best mate. 

          “Hello John, having a good one then?” She was always so friendly, and he told himself that was just because she was trying to find her place here, get in with someone, but he couldn’t always be that naive either. Feeling his mobile buzz, he apologised and looked down, seeing it was Greg’s name that came up. Rolling his eyes and sighing, he decided to read it, knowing that he didn’t have to respond if he didn’t want to. Of course, the man had to be vague though, asking to talk, saying it was something to do with James. 

> **_I’m free in ten. -JW_ **

          “Sorry, just… old contact trying to talk to me. We haven’t spoke in a while, and last time we did, it wasn’t good.” John gave a tight smile, Mary giving him an apologetic one back. “If anything comes up while I’m talking to him, please don’t fret to come and get me.” Nodding, he moved back to his office, knowing that Greg would be there soon, but at least he could get a little paperwork done, and then he could take a real lunch, which usually just meant that he would sit in his office for the hour and write his blog, because supposedly that was supposed to help him deal. When Greg arrived, he quickly retrieved him, walking back to his office but leaving the door open in case he was needed, sitting down at his desk and looking over to the man he used to be on such good terms with. He still wasn’t sure what he wanted to talk about, but he said it was about James, and try as he might to forget the man and move on, he still loved him dearly. “So, what is this that you have to talk to me about?” 

          “I’ll make it quick since you’re working and I know you’re still cross with me. James has been firing his care team repeatedly, and I was just hoping that maybe you could go out to him and…” Greg didn’t get very far before Mary walked in, his brows furrowing as she lay her hand on his arm, a sweet smile flashed his way, not at all looking like they were desperate for help. 

          “John? I was wondering, sorry if I’m interrupting, but I was wondering if you’d like to have lunch together? I just have to drop off this file, and you’re always eating alone…” 

          “Um… yeah, sure… I guess. I’ll just finish up and come out?” He gave her a nod as she lit up, walking out of his office, and he was rather surprised she had come in while he had Greg there to ask him to lunch. “Sorry, new nurse. I think she’s just trying to find someone to sit with.” Quickly making an excuse, John sat straight, focusing his attention back to Greg. 

          “Really John? I know you’re not that dumb on either front. The only table she wants to sit at is yours… Anyway, James. Even if it’s just as a friend, he will talk to you. If you could just… I don’t know, find out what we can do to help? I want to help him. Not just because of Sherlock, but because I talked to him and I know he’s a good man. I just think you’ll be able to get more than ‘everything is fine’ like we do when we reach out.” 

          “You do realise he hasn’t spoken to me since he returned? How am I supposed to get him to talk about the staff he keeps firing?” James hadn’t even given him the courtesy of breaking up with him face to face, instead having written him a letter to say that he thought it best they went their separate ways. “I don’t even know where he lives now, so it’s not like I could just waltz right up to his home and give him no other option…” 

          “I have his address. It’s a bit of a ways out, but he seemed glad of that when we brought him there. I’ll let the posted security know to expect you.” Sighing, John ran his hand over his face and then round the back of his neck, taking the card that Greg handed to him, letting out a soft groan. “You and James are doing the same crap Mycroft and I did trying to protect each other. Talk to him, just like I did. The two of you understand each other better than anyone else could, and the two of you deserve to be happier than either of you allow yourselves to be.” Maybe he was right, that it would be best to go and talk this all out with him, and then maybe, just maybe he could move on and something could come from Mary. 

          “Yeah, I guess I can go.” John stood, walking back towards the front to see Greg out, feeling a bit divided about all of this, nervous to go and see James again, worried it would go pear shaped, as well as feeling absolutely giddy. “Thank you, Greg. For helping him, and for still being there even when I’m being a tit.” Even after his outburst, Greg had still been there, which was a true friend, something he felt he had very little of these days. 

*****

          Frowning as he heard a knock at the door, James waited a few moments, listening to see if the staff was going to answer, or if security would take care of it, but when no one did and the knock came again, he let out a short huff, rather irritated by the latest group of new hires. More than likely, it was the new staff Greg and Mycroft had sent, seeing as he had let yet another few go, but he was not in the mood to deal with anyone at the moment. Taking a deep breath, he undid the lock and opened the door, ready to tell whoever was standing there where to go for their position, or to leave immediately, but he froze when he realised who was really there, his chest tight as he looked the man over. 

          “John?” 


	48. XLVII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for all the angsty chapters recently! We feel poor John just can't catch a break! Also, side note! Iohannes is John in Latin, or the equivalent of it, just so no one gets confused :)

          It had been a few hours drive out of London to James’ current home, spending the time trying to find just the right thing to say, practicing a speech before scrapping it and trying again. He knew what he wanted to say, that he loved him still and nothing would change that, and to just let him in, but it never sounded right. It was either too desperate or took fake to his ears. They had traded letters for so long, everything he needed to say had already been said before the attack that had changed it all. Now James wanted nothing to do with anyone, becoming the man he had fought so hard to make sure he didn’t after being discharged himself. Groaning and pressing back against the seat, John shook his head as his mind wandered over to Mary and what Greg had said about her, clearly being interested in him as everyone else had been obvious to. She wasn’t bad looking, kind enough, smart too, but… she knew nothing of his history, with James, with Sherlock, about the past he was still learning, but was that so bad? She could be an escape from it all, someone new and unattached to the world he had found himself unwillingly thrown into. Perhaps it would be for the best, to tell James to accept the help, that Greg was a true friend and to stop being so difficult and to just move on. That’s what everyone kept saying anyway. 

          Pulling up to the long private drive, John still felt torn about just what to do, though he was thankful if not slightly amused by the fact that he was stopped to show his ID before continuing on, the doctor himself sitting quietly outside James’ house trying to gather the nerve to do what was right. What that was, he still didn’t know, but he knew he at least had to get the man to accept the help to get better. Everything else would be sorted out some other time. Knocking on the door, John wasn’t shocked at first when there was no answer, knocking a little more incessantly the second time until he heard the chain being drawn to unlock it. The sight that greeted him was a shock, even with the medical reports he had been able to get out of his friends. The entire left side of his body looked angry, his arm in a sling and the way he was favouring it looked as though he was still learning how to work around the obvious nerve damage, if he had any function left at all. Those once caring and bright eyes were now sunken and haunted, pained beyond the physical aches of his body with the ghosts of what he would never be able to forget. He had lost a considerable amount of weight, and his once tall stance was now hunched over as though he was trying to hide himself, though he stood ever so taller as he realised who was in front of him. 

          “Sir.” John greeted back, the first thing out of his mouth before remembering himself with a slight clearing of his throat. “James. I… hi. Hello.” James just stuttered, not speaking and instead stepping aside after a few moments, locking the door behind them as John stepped in, following him to the living room, which was dark with the curtains drawn. 

          “Can I get you anything? Water? A drink?” John shook his head as he continued to watch over James, wanting to reach out and pull the man into his arms, but hesitant to even touch him out of fear of physically hurting him with the scars that covered his body. 

          “I’m… I’m fine.” He offered duly, forcing himself to pull his gaze away from his old major and around the house they were standing in. It was simple, comfortable even, plenty of space to move around without feeling like too much or too small with only one living in it full time. There were obvious signs that others were here, though. Medication left ignored on the counter with instructions of what to take when, and a list in James’ handwriting with scratches through it, which John could only assume was a list of the house staff he kept firing. “I um… I won’t lie to you, James. Greg asked me to come to check on you, and ask why you kept firing the people he’s hiring to take care of you. I agreed because I… I miss you, James. I’ve wanted to be there for you since I got word of the attack, like how you were there for me after I was shot. I’ve read your letter,” John nearly had it memorised, but no one needed to know that, “And if that’s what you really want, then fine, but you’re still my friend, and I still care.” Sighing, James closed his eyes and sat down in his chair. 

          “What exactly did Greg tell you about who I have been firing?” John chewed his lip before taking a small step forward, a frown matching the other man’s when he closed his eyes and refused to look at him. 

          “That you won’t let them help you, and when he asks if there’s something more he could do, you say you’re fine.” He said softly, crossing the rest of the distance between them and gently taking James’ good hand into both of his. “If you won’t let me help you, let them. Greg won’t send people who don’t know what they’re doing. I know it’s hard to rely on others, but once you heal you can get back to being the stubborn man that I-” It was still so easy to say that he loved the man, something that he had never once felt the urge to say to any of the girls he had dated since he had got back, even those whom he had been with for months. It was different and no matter how hard he had tried to let go, it never happened. James and Sherlock were the two people he had held most dear, and had trust to rely on, and he wasn’t going to lose them both without a fight. “That I know and care about. Just tell me what you need, and I’ll make sure you have it.” 

          “It is not that they aren’t capable, they all were…” James paused and he could see that he was having a hard time admitting to why he wasn’t keeping staff. “They weren’t you.” John swallowed thickly as he watched James pull away from him, feeling as though his feet had glued themselves to the ground where he stood. 

          “You told me not to come… if you had only said… had only asked…” He defended softly, finally forcing his legs to move before reaching out and tugging softly at James’ good arm to turn him around once more. “Dammit, James. I don’t care that you’re hurt, I don’t care that you’re scarred, I don’t care about any of that because I know  _ you,  _ James! I don’t care about waiting, you’re the one person still here for me! You make me feel normal, just say it and I’ll stay here with you.” He was shaking, simply wishing there was some way to just make James listen to him. 

          “I can’t, John… you deserve more than I can give you.” John knew the man thought he deserved better, but he was happy when he was with his Major, felt less alone than he had in the last year since Sherlock had jumped. 

          “James,” He sighed, letting go with one hand to gingerly take the man’s bad hand into his and kissing his knuckles. “I just want to be with you.” He said softly, another frown pulling at his features as he felt James start to shake. “Love, come here,” John sighed, pulling him into a hug and holding him as tight as he dared, their height difference doing nothing to help with feeling as though he was actually comforting the man. “Don’t worry about what you can or cannot give me. I’m happy now, can’t that be enough?” 

          “I’m sorry, John. I did the one thing I told you not to, I shut you out, shut everybody out. I just couldn’t stand the thought of how you would look at me, to see me like this. Broken, and full of guilt for those men’s lives. I can’t even stand to be around men now, seeing their faces, but mostly, knowing that I had pushed you away. John…” James paused for a moment, pulling back. “Is there anyway you can forgive my mistakes? I know I can never make it up to you, the hurt that I caused, but I can try to do so for the rest of my life.” John gently shushed James as he begged for forgiveness, running his fingers lightly over the scars on his cheek. 

          “There’s nothing to forgive,” He promised, pulling him forward and into a deep kiss. He truly believed it too, that there was no need to forgive James for pushing him away, as he had been guilty of the same thing. “You are still my Major, just as you still call me soldier. I know you fought to save those men, I know that was beyond anything that you could have ever predicted. You say you’re broken, I am too. You need a doctor, I’ll be your man,” He said with a faint smile, remembering how when they had first started talking, James would come in complaining of the smallest thing, asking to see his doctor. “I’ll take care of you, if you’ll let me.” 

*****

          Chuckling when John mentioned being his doctor, James closed his eyes, pressing his forehead to the others. 

          “Sir yes Sir, Captain Watson,” He knew John would get a kick out of that, teasing him while he still remembered his confession that the military names only served as a reminder of their more intimate times. “Tell me soldier, this Major has made a mistake. Is there any way I can account for my debts?” Opening his eyes, he smiled as he looked to the other, lifting his good hand to cup John’s cheek. The shorter man simply shook his head and smiled before leaning up to kiss him again, James leaning into the touch. His smile faded as he let out a deep growl when that tongue swiped across his lips, James letting John deepen the kiss, pressing against him till he was up against the wall. “John,” He moaned, panting as he rolled his hips against the other, feeling the pleasure rush up his spine, not feeling this alive in a very long time. He only wished he could hold the man with both his hands, feeling restrained as he couldn’t maneuver the other like he used to, couldn’t be the commanding officer like before. Feeling a bit hesitant, he pulled away, ever so slightly, looking down to where his bad arm hung, his lips pressed into a thin line.  

          “I’ll take care of you,” Voice soft, John reached up to pull off his sling, James bending down ever so slightly, closing his eyes and letting his arm relax to his side. “I’ve missed having you like this,” Heat flushed in his cheeks as he felt himself turned and pressed against the wall, John whispering to him, that hot breath ghosting over his skin. 

          “Not very often you get to take control of your commanding officer now, is it soldier?” James gave a small smile, pressing his cheek against the other’s, pausing for a short moment when he realised he couldn’t feel much of anything because of the nerve damage on his left side. It only phased him for a moment before he brought his good hand up to hold John’s waist, pulling him close. Letting out a moan as he felt those lips against his skin, and those hand pressing hard against him as they rocked their hips together, James lay his head back, giving John more access to his neck. 

          “Bit like Christmas, Sir. I’d very much like to unwrap my gift, though.” 

          “Christmas.... Yes, well I didn’t get you a gift, but I’m sure you can find a way to forgive me for that too,” James chuckled, letting the man lead him back towards the bedroom, only having to direct him once with a small smile before opening the door. His knees hit the back of  the bed and he laid back, feeling a bit odd for letting someone else have control, but feeling safe because it was John. Swallowing hard, he froze when John started to push his shirt off, worrying his lip as he slowly relaxed, letting the fabric fall to the floor, his chest tight as he saw the look the man gave him. Those eyes traced over his scarred flesh, and all he wanted to do was hide, his good arm coming to block the majority of his left side as he turned his head away. He was surprised when John gently pushed his arm away before leaning down and pressing kisses to the edge where burned skin met healthy. It was the same gesture he had given the soldier right after he was shot, having paid the same reverence by kissing his scar on his shoulder. “John…” 

          “I have you, Sir.” Arching up into the touch, James gasped as he felt John’s tongue trace along the sensitive flesh, the heat flaring in his cheeks. “I love you,” Rocking his hips up as John straddled him, James pulled the man close, panting as he pressed his forehead to the others. 

          “I love you too, soldier.” Capturing those lips in his, he moaned against John as he rolled his hips, desperate for some sort of friction, wanting to feel the man against him. “God, John… I have missed you, I have missed this,” Leaning up, he peppered kisses along the other’s jaw, over to that sensitive patch of skin that he knew made John moan, made him melt against him. 

          “Christ, James,” Chasing after John as the man pulled away, he frowned as the other looked down to him, James wanting more but John clearly having a different plan in mind. Watching as he trailed kisses down his stomach, James barely processed the actio before he felt John swallow him in one go. 

          “Fuck!” He hissed, his back arching off the bed as he felt that delicious heat swallow around him, his aching prick hitting the back of the man’s throat. “John,” Reaching down with his good hand, he carded his fingers through those short locks, not wanting to direct him or hold him in place, rather just wanting to anchor himself. The heat was building slowly, coiling at the base of his spine as John worked that skillful tongue over him, those rough hands pinning him to the bed as he tried to buck and arch up into the touch. Whimpering at the loss of heat, his eyes flew open to see the other, a sly smirk on John’s face. 

          “I’m going to ride you, Sir. Then, once you’ve come in me, I’m going to fuck you myself.” If he could have come from words alone, that would have done it. The dark way John’s voice danced over the words, it was absolutely delicious. 

          “John,” His voice was rough as he panted, wanting nothing more than everything John was willing to give him. “Stop teasing your commanding officer with promises and get to work soldier.” If he couldn’t physically be in charge as he used to be, he could still use his presence and voice to regain some of that. John moaned softly, sucking on two of his fingers. The sight of John sucking down his aching prick and fingering himself open was enough to push him so close to the edge, his breathing ragged as he watched, enraptured by the sight. Throwing his head back, he was set on the idea that John was going to try and have him multiple times tonight, that was till those fingers were wrapping around the base of his prick and that heat was gone. Whimpering, he looked down to see why John had stopped, and frowned as he watched before realising what the man intended to do next, shifting as he straddled his hips. “Stop taking your time soldier and obey orders! Please your commanding officer now!” He growled, no malice in his voice, rather desperation.

          “Oh  _ fuck  _ James…” Hearing John swear and watching him slide down till he was fully seated on top of him, James let out a deep moan, sitting up for a moment and wrapping his good arm around John’s waist, pressing close and claiming those lips. 

          “That’s it, John. Do your duty, be a good soldier, just like that.” His voice was low and deep as he felt the man rock his hips, James holding tight with his one arm, wanting to stay like this for as long as his strength would allow him. 

          “James… is this good enough for you, Sir?” Gasps and moans falling from his lips, James finally had to lay back, bringing John down with him as the man continued his pace. 

          “Yes, yes John. I’m not going to…” He stuttered, feeling the heat settle in his groin, threatening to spill over, but he didn’t want it to be done. James knew that John still had plans for him, but it was coming to a close and that scared him, worrying that afterwards the sentiment and feeling that was surrounding them now would disappear, and they would be left with hurt and regret. Reaching down between them with his good arm, he wrapped his fingers around the base of his cock, trying to stave off his impending orgasm, trying to hold on for as long as he could. John slowed, reaching down to lift his hand away and guide it back to his side as he stilled, the both of them catching their breath. 

          “We have all the time you need, Sir. I’m not going anywhere, the clinic knows I might call out tomorrow. You have me.” Searching those clear blue eyes, James just quietly nodded, keeping his hand at his side as John went back to work, his eyes fluttering closed with a soft goran. “I still have so much more I want from you James. Don’t go thinking it’s over the moment you finish,” Without having to look, he brought his right  hand up to rest on the man’s stomach, feeling the way the muscles moved under the taught skin, knowing neither of them were quite what they used to be, but were still very impressive for their age. 

          “John…” James gasped, having come back so quickly to the edge, teetering between letting go and holding on, that delicious heat surrounding him. It didn’t take much longer to tip over the edge, his back arching as his hips stilled, nails scratching down the other’s stomach as he gasped. Right after he felt John finishing as well, that sweet heat coating his stomach as the man pulled every last bit from him, milking his orgasm as he watched John fall apart. There was a soft smile on his lips as they calmed down, John sliding off and laying at his side, James rolling so he could wrap his good arm around him and hold him close. 

          “I told you, you have me now, for as long as you’re willing.” 

          “Stay the night?” He asked after a few minutes, pressing a kiss to John’s forehead as he closed his eyes, resting his chin on the top of the man’s head. It felt good to have him here, have him close, and know that he wasn’t going anywhere unless he told him to leave. 

          “However long you’ll have me. I’ll make us breakfast in the morning, how does that sound? I never wanted it like this, but selfishly, I’m glad that you’re back.” John said with a fond smile, though he was interrupted with a heavy yawn. 

          “Tired already soldier? I seem to recall a promise you made about making me come first, then fucking me afterwards. You’re losing your touch ‘Three Continents Watson,’” James teased, chuckling as John rubbed along his side. 

          “Oh, shut up  _ Sir, _ ” 

          “I’m glad that you came here and forced this old man to listen. It’s a good thing that we are both stubborn, so we can call each other on it when we are both being too strong headed. Now, I think it’s time to rest, and maybe, you can keep that promise to me tomorrow morning.” 

          “I’ll be sure to make up for it in the morning then. Goodnight James,” Laying another kiss on John’s head, James closed his eyes, listening to the other’s breathing as he let himself start to drift. 

*****

_           “Why did you ever think that was a good idea, Gregori?” Iohannes scolded the gladiator as he pressed a rag to the bleeding wound on Sherlock’s shoulder, the boy barely in his teens rolling his eyes as he took his cue to hold the cloth as the healer went to get a few more bandages for him.  _

_           “Don’t be so mad at him, I asked him to teach me to fight. Besides, you patch me up all the time when he teaches me to fight with my hands,” Sherlock defended himself, gingerly lifting the rag before he was backhanded against his good shoulder and the healer pressed down again against the cut.  _

_           “A scrape from falling to the ground and a blade wound are two different things, and don’t pretend you are dull enough to not realise that.” Iohannes scolded, sighing and glaring at Gregori who was busy staring down at his feet, clearly upset with himself that he didn’t require a lecture as well.  _

_           “Iohannes it’s fine. It’s not even bleeding that much anymore. Look!” Sherlock argued, lifting the rag again to show that the bleeding had in fact lessened.  _

_           “Only because Gregori is skilled enough to keep from cutting your arm off. Now hold still and let me wrap it so it won’t fall off later,” Iohannes sighed, Sherlock rolling his eyes but following orders enough to allow for his shoulder to be bandaged, though the boy knew it would only take a few hours to heal. “You have to be mindful of yourself, Sherlock. You’re a good boy, but stubborn in a dangerous way. No one wants to lose you, understand?” Sherlock got down from the table, walking over towards Gregori before turning to face him.  _

_           “I am almost a man, Iohannes, honestly. I think I am old enough now to start learning how to defend myself should the barbarians invade Rome. Now, Gregori, I’m sure my idiot brother will be wanting to hear all about this, shall we return to the domus? I’m sure he’s finally made it home from the forum, and gained his breath back,” Sherlock snickered, taking one last look in his direction before exiting, Gregori giving him a sad smile and shrugging.  _

          John blinked himself awake, the old Latin still lingering on his tongue as he groaned in protest of yet another ridiculous memory coming to light. At least it wasn’t too terrible of a memory, of war or death or dying as they usually seemed to be. There was still a nostalgic ache in his chest from seeing Sherlock so young but still with the same personality he had now. Only… not now, John reminded himself with a sigh, shoving those thoughts away as he rolled over and smiled at the sight of James still sleeping next to him. Greg had always said that Sherlock just wanted him to be happy, so hopefully he would have understood why he had chosen his Major. Shuffling over closer to James’ side, he rested a hand across the man’s chest and closed his eyes again, not looking to fall back asleep, but not ready to get up yet either. 

          “You talk when you sleep. Though… I’m not sure it was English you were speaking. Jibberish, maybe? It wasn’t something I knew. Tell me soldier, what dreams have you speaking in tongues?” John tensed slightly when James asked him about his dreams, unsure of what to do. Greg had told him repeatedly that he couldn’t just tell anyone about what was going on, and for the most part he agreed since it sounded like insanity, even to him, but James wasn’t just anyone. It was James, a man he trusted completely. 

          “It will sound mad, but it was Latin.” John admitted softly, trying to relax again as he rubbed his hand over James’ chest. “It sounds ridiculous, but I’ve been having memories of the past, past lives. Almost.” He added after a second, looking up to see how James was watching him curiously now, pulling his hand back as he pushed himself up to sit with his back against the headboard. “They’re disorienting sometimes, but I’m always a doctor or a soldier in them, so I guess some things never change, huh?” 

          “Yes, well  _ dreams  _ can be disorienting sometimes, but that is why they are dreams, they aren’t real… right?” 

          “I hope so,” John laughed weakly, running a hand through his hair with a sigh. “I don’t know. I just wish they would stop.” He added after a minute, looking over at James and already regretting that he said something. He saw why Greg had warned him about this, but he had hoped that James would be different and somehow just accept it all. “Don’t worry about it. Really. Like you said, they’re just dreams.” John defended himself softly, reaching out to link their hands together with a gentle smile. “Come on, let’s get breakfast, and I believe I have a promise to make good on?” 

          “What are these dreams about, John?” He could feel himself starting to panic, realising how big of a mistake he had made. 

          “You think I am crazy.” He said softly, almost defeated as he sighed and looked down at the blanket covering his lap. “It depends, really. Some have Sherlock there with me, some are just… lives that I’ve lived. Some alone, some with families, scattered everywhere. Places and times I’ve never been to but apparently I have.” John explained, taking his hand from James as he realised there was no going back now. “I’ll talk with Greg about them sometimes, and he tries to assure me that I won’t go completely looney like Moriarty did not being with Sherlock and all, but… I don’t know. I shouldn’t have said anything. Can we please just go eat now?” 

          “So this has to do with Sherlock… John, I’m worried about you, I really am. You know I care, and it sounds like you still haven’t got over what happened with Sherlock and it’s turning into… well I’m not sure what this is. I think you need help, John.” John fell silent as he tried to figure out just what to do, angry that James was pushing him away again after everything and treating him like he was crazy. 

          “It’s no different than my PTSD, James.” He was desperate for the other to understand, though he realised a little too late that it didn’t make it any better since Sherlock had helped him with his PTSD too. “I’m still your soldier, I just sometimes have these dreams.” 

          “But you don’t think they are dreams, John. You see them as reality. You know that is impossible, having past lives. People only live once, and we die. I think you are just trying to hold onto Sherlock, and I’m worried about you, as a friend. Please, you need to see someone.” John wasn’t stupid enough to believe that he could convince James otherwise, and could tell just by the way the man was watching him that it was over, so he quietly slipped out of the bed and started getting dressed once more. 

          “I’ll make us something to eat while you get ready,” John said quietly, barely pausing long enough to make sure that James had heard him before heading into the kitchen to see what there was and debating if he should text Greg about his fuckup or not. He had a hunch that all that would come of it would be another lecture of how he can’t go around and tell people, but at the same time, he was losing the one man who he had always fought to be with. 


	49. XLVIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to the lives lost at the Pulse Nightclub. My co-writer actually knew some of those who passed, so this was a difficult week for her specifically. We wanted to put something here for those who were affected, family and friends as well. As a queer individual myself, I felt the wake of fear it left in our community, and I saw the worry that we had all the way up in Michigan because our pride festival was moved inside that year. I hope that we can keep strong and move forward so that one day LGBTA kids won't have to live in fear of being who they are.

          For some reason the mobile wouldn’t hang just right and it was going to drive him up the wall. He had done it at least five times and, and every time he stepped back, it still didn’t look right. Muttering as he messed with the blasted thing once more, Mycroft heard Gregory speak up, his hands still fiddling with the contraption. 

          “You know, we spent all this time getting Elise’s room absolutely perfect, but something tells me we won’t put her down for the first few weeks anyway. Can you believe it, just a few more weeks! I can’t believe it’s finally happening.” 

          “Holding her the entire time and having a mobile be aligned so it doesn’t look out of place are two different things, Gregory,” He grumbled, struggling to keep the thing still while he tightened the mount. A small sigh escaped when Gregory reached over his shoulder and helped him steady it, finally being able to secure the last clasp before taking his hands off it and stepping back. “Yes, a few more weeks, that is, if Anthea lasts that long. My memory could be wrong, as there is a lot up there, but I do believe she was early with Miles.” 

          “I know it’s different love, I was simply putting two thoughts together. I think she was about a week early with Miles, so we’ll just have to be patient to see if Elise will come early as well.” Turning to face the other, he placed his hands on the man’s shoulders, giving him a soft smile as he looked to his partner, feeling rather anxious, wanting to hear from Ryan as to when their little girl would be here. “I already know you’ll be speak to her in Latin all the time. Think it’ll be a race to see which language she speaks first.” Mycroft had read every parenting book he could get his hands on, as well as done plenty of research in whatever down time he could find, but that still didn’t help his nerves in thinking he didn’t know how to raise their child. 

          “Of course I will be speak to her in Latin, it’s important she knows our native language my dear.” Raising a brow, he looked to his lover with a smirk. “I know you will argue and say that French is yours, but if I am not mistaken, your original life was in Rome with me, and since you have all your memories now, that would be your first that you remember,” He chuckled, leaning down to Kiss Gregory back. “Now, I think her nursery is complete. We have the bag ready, is there anything else we are missing?” 

          “I figured that I’d still speak to her in English, and maybe do French later. I am still amazed with how much Miles actually understands with how many languages we piled onto the poor lad. As for the nursery, maybe a nightlight so we can come in without turning everything on, but besides that, we are fine. Now come, let’s get dinner and we can see if we can actually sleep tonight through our excitement.” Chuckling, Mycroft pressed another kiss to the man’s cheek and followed after him, heading towards the kitchen as he sat at the counter, smiling as he watched his lover move about and prepare their dinner, the smells drifting through the room and making his stomach growl. 

          “It is a good thing you are okay with my diet, because I find it very hard to say no to anything you make, and I have a feeling you could ruin me easily,” He teased, grabbing a bottle of wine and pouring them both a glass, taking a sip and closing his eyes as he let the alcohol calm his buzzing nerves. “We can always check in tonight before we go to bed, give them a quick call and see how everything is going. I am sure Anthea won’t mind.” 

          “I could, but honestly, it helps us both to keep me from making overly rich treats all the time,” Gregory shrugged, turning to look at him with a soft smile. “I’m sure we could, love, but let’s eat first, yeah? I’m sure they’ll appreciate us checking in as well. Or-” Gregory frowned, Mycroft sighing and closing his eyes as his lips pressed into a thin line, the phone chirping from the other room. “Or you could get a phone call… go answer it, I’ll wait for you.” Standing and placing a kiss on the man’s forehead, he headed out, a little irritated someone was calling him at this time of night. Not even bothering with caller ID, he answered in his typical tight demeanor, ready to chew out whoever was disturbing his night off. 

          “Holmes.” 

          “Mycroft, hey, it’s Ryan. Sorry if we are interrupting anything mate, but Anthea wanted me to call.” Mycroft’s eyes went wide and he froze, almost dropping the phone on the ground. It was Ryan, this was it, the moment they had been waiting for. Covering the phone quickly, he croaked out Gregory’s name, hoping the man had heard him and would come. 

          “Is everything alright? Is the baby coming? Is Anthea okay!?” Mycroft fired off in rapid succession, his throat feeling tight as he saw Gregory come down the hall. 

          “Hey, hey,” His partner soothed, taking the phone from him and holding him with one are. “Here, let me have the phone. Greg here. Yeah, I’ll get him a bag here in a second. Is Anthea and the baby okay?” Mycroft watched as the other’s expression changed from calm to shocked, his nerves shooting through the roof as he looked to his partner. “Yeah, we’ll be there soon. Thanks for letting us know.” 

          “What is it my dear, please tell me everything is okay?” He questioned, keeping his voice hushed as he knew Ryan was still on the other line. 

          “Anthea’s in labor. Go get the bag from the cabinet before you hyperventilate. Give Anthea our love, Ryan. See you soon.” Those first three words had him frozen in place, his eyes wide as he looked to Gregory, hoping the man wasn’t joking. “We have to go, we need to leave now, what if we don’t get there in time? What if Elise comes before we can get there?” Mycroft started to fret, heading towards the front door and dragging Gregory with them, knowing that the man already had the bag in the boot of his car. 

          “My, Mycroft, calm down. Hold on!” Gregory urged, tugging on his wrist to get him to slow down. “She’s still very early on. She only just started having contractions. They haven’t even called the midwife yet. I promise you, we’ll have plenty of time, let me at least put the food away first then we’ll head out to them, okay?” He was right, he just need to keep calm, keep his head in place. 

          “I’m sorry dear, I’m just nervous. We’ve been waiting two thousand years for this, and now it’s finally here, and I don’t think all the parenting books in the world could have prepared me for this moment.” 

          “It will only take a minute to put the food in containers and we’ll bring it with, and of course the books won’t make you ready to be a parent, they just give you tips and tricks.” Mycroft gave a nervous chuckle, taking a deep breath and follow after the other quietly as he watched Gregory pack dinner away, taking his hand as they made their way to the car. Looking out the window, he watched as London passed them by, his heart racing as his thoughts whirred, his expression stern as he tried not to worry. Turning when Gregory took his hand, he gave the man a soft smile, squeezing back. 

          “What if I’m not a good parent? I know you will be, but I am nowhere near as kind and gentle as you are. I had a hand in raising Sherlock, and you’ve seen how he is. I just don’t want to do anything wrong for our little girl.” 

          “Yes, you helped raise Sherlock, but that boy was stubborn from the start. The both of you were, and still are now. You also have to admit that Sherlock has a bigger heart than he knows what to do with. Just looked at how he is with John and Mrs. Hudson, or anyone really who shows him compassion. You’ll be a brilliant dad, My. You’ve wanted this for so long, and the fact that you question if you’ll be good or not shows just how much you care. The fact that you still worry for Sherlock when you could have long ago wiped your hands clean of him proves you’ll be fantastic with her.” There weren’t words to express the love he had for Gregory, there never would be, not with as many languages he had learned. He knew they would never be able to vocalise the feeling he had for the other. Gregory took him, faults and all, and knew exactly what to say to reassure him, and he knew he could do the same for the other. He hated story book love and tales of star crossed lovers, but when it came to Immortals, that was most often how it worked. Mycroft would never call it that out loud, and if someone asked him, he would keep his typical cold persona about him, as only a chosen few ever got to see this side of him, but he knew he would always have a soft spot for this man. 

          “I can’t wait to see you with her. You will be the best father anyone could ever ask for.” 

          “God knows I’ve had enough nieces and nephews and baby cousins through the years to practice on,” Gregory joked, taking his hand back to focus on the road. “Miles will be excited to finally be a big cousin too. It’s sweet how excited he is over her.”  

          “Well, at least one of us has experience then, and recently as well. For me it’s been since Roman rule that I have cared for an infant,” Mycroft chuckled, not counting Miles because honestly, Gregory had done most of the work there until the child could sit up or walk on his own. “It is very sweet, and I’m sure he will be a big help.” Smiling sweetly, Mycroft shifted to look back out the window, waiting out the rest of the ride in silence, thinking about their child and wanting to be there sooner and have this wait in the car be over with. 

*****

          Greg smiled to himself as he watched Mycroft rush to get inside and see Anthea, taking a moment to himself to try and work out some of his own anxious energy so he could continue to be the calm one for his partner. He loved Mycroft ot the ends of the earth and he knew the man could handle a lot of stress with work, but when he was like this it could be exhausting to try and be the strong one for them. Following inside with their bag over his shoulder, Greg smiled to himself as he found everyone in the dimly lit room, setting their things down to the side before greeting Anthea with a kiss to her head. 

          “Quam dulce mihi numen, lux vitae meae? Parum est: est Pater vester qui hic sit bonum, Anthea: ipsa est mulier habens gemmas pretiosissimas, et dans vitam, ut et nos in vobis: ut habeatis nostrum.”  _ How are you sweet goddess, light of my life? Little one, your father’s are here, be good to Anthea, she is a precious woman, giving you life so that we may have you in ours.  _ Mycroft cooed, Greg shaking his head. 

          “How’re you feeling? How’re the contractions?” 

          “They hurt,” Anthea answered with a soft laugh, resting her hands over Mycroft’s on her stomach with a fond smile. “But they are still weak and far apart. I would be surprised if it wasn’t until early morning that she arrives.” She assured them, stretching uncomfortably through another contraction while Greg moved towards Ryan and Miles. 

          “How about I take him to bed so you can actually move?” 

          “That would be great,” Ryan grinned, rubbing his son’s back as Greg lifted him up, the boy grumbling in his sleep before settling against his godfather’s shoulder. “Want some water Ann?” 

          “Please,” She panted, taking deep breaths through the contractions. 

          “Anything I can do for you my love, please let me know.” Mycroft smiled, Greg watching the two of them together. 

          “Sunt hie et nunc est, quod opus est.”  _ You are both here, that is all I need.  _

 

          Greg found it far easier to busy himself with little tasks to try and keep Anthea comfortable, getting her water and juice as she asked for it, and checkling Miles now and again, his own anxiety starting to build as her labor progressed. Eventually it came time to call for the midwife to come and assist, Greg greeting her at the door as a bundle of nerves. 

          “This is first birth you’ve attended?” She asked him as he followed her through the house, kneeling down beside Anthea to start assessing her and the baby. 

          “Yeah, sort of? Technically?” Greg stuttered out, feeling his cheeks flush as Mycroft and Ryan raised an eyebrow as they looked back at him. “One of my lives in Germany I bred horses, but I’m realising how different that is than this,” He defending himself, looking over at Anthea in surprised when she burst out laughing. “So yes, watching my friend give birth to my daughter is different than watching over a horse and foal.” 

          “Well, it feels like the baby is in the right position, so now it’s simply time to let nature take her course. If you want to get some towels and such for later, I won’t torture you by making you my assistant,” The midwife nodded, helping Anthea into a more comfortable position while Greg retreated into the other room to do as he was told. Once the midwife had started instructed Anthea to start pushing with the contractions, Greg elected to trade places with Ryan in Miles’ room, letting Anthea’s husband be there at her side to hold her hand and comfort her. He knew his anxiousness would do nothing to help her through the contractions, especially if he ended up passing out, which he prayed wouldn’t happen. 

          “Is mummy okay?” Miles asked after a heavy yawn, tired from it being the middle of the night, but curious of what was happening. He continued to fight his sleep for as long as he could. 

          “Mummy’s having baby Elise. The midwife makes sure that everyone will be okay.” Greg explained softly, sitting on the floor and smiling when the boy sat on his lap while pushing some of his toy cars around. 

          “Why is the baby hurting her though?” 

          “Well… remember how it hurt when you got a sliver and I took it out?” Greg prompted after a pause, smiling when Miles stuck out his tongue to make a face at the memory. “She has to have a baby come out, which is a lot bigger than a sliver. Mummy can take medicine to make it hurt less, but it still hurts in the moment.” Miles looked content with the explanation for a while, the two of them playing and making accompanying car and crash noises with a few giggles now and again before a thought came to the boy. 

          “Why do adults say babies come from birds when they come from mummies?” 

          “Um…” Greg started before chuckling and hugging Miles to him, kissing the boy’s temple and hating the fact that he was already so curious and as smart as his parents. “Sometimes adults don’t really know how to explain things, so they come up with old stories to tell. It was said long ago that a stork flying overhead was a sign that someone was to have a baby, and so it became that storks brought them to the home.” 

          “So they lie on purpose?” Miles asked, Greg laughing as he scrubbed his hand through the boy’s hair. 

          “It’s a story buddy. Stories are different than lies.” He promised, looking up when Mycroft came into the room looking excited. 

          “She’s very nearly here. Come, come!” Mycroft said quickly, Greg nuding Miles to stand from his lap before pushing himself up as well. 

          “Let’s go meet Elise! You can’t bother mummy right away though, okay? She’ll be tired, but you can come to her side when she tells you.” Walking back into the room, Mycroft took his place back at Anthea’s side, Ryan looking exhausted but happy as they knew the end was near. Greg took Miles and sat in the corner of the room, holding the little one on his lap. 

          “You are doing great, my dear. Now, just one more push and I think we will have it,” The midwife’s voice was soft as Anthea’s face scrunched up once more, a shout escaping her lips and Miles burying his face in his chest. 

          “She’s alright, Miles-” Greg murmured, though the words died in his mouth at the sound of the infant’s cries filling the room. Looking up in excited awe, Greg’s gaze immediately fell on the midwife and the tiny baby she was holding, his little daughter crying in confusion of being out in the rest of the world. 

          “Non est, Mycroft. Ad illiam, non satis diu Expectavimus.”  _ There she is, Mycroft. Go to her, you’ve waited long enough,  _ Anthea sighed, resting her head back against the pillow and smiling up at them. It took those soft words to Mycroft for him to find himself again, immediately moving to watch over the midwife’s shoulder as she worked to clean the baby up and quickly check her over before offering for them to cut the cord. Looking back at Mycroft at the offer, Greg stuttered as well before clearing his throat. 

          “Together.” He decided, taking one side of the scissors and waiting for his partner to take the other before pressing down, grinning back at the man as they were shooed aside once more for the midwife to finish checking over Elise and bundle her up. “Holy shit we’re parents,” Greg whispered before laughing, vaguely aware of the fact that he was crying out of sheer joy as he hugged Mycroft as tight as he could. “We’re really parents now.” 

          “Non est hic,”  _ She’s here.  _ Mycroft cupped his face, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips as he brushed his tears away. “She’s finally here, my love, we finally have her.” 

          “Yes, and which one of you would like to hold her first?”  Mycroft turned to look at the midwife, a look of panic on his features again. “I really think that should be Gregory, I’m not sure I know how to… and I don’t wish to do anything wrong…” 

          “It’s just like how we held Miles when he was first born,” Greg said softly, still trying to collect himself with a few wet sniffs as he reached out to gingerly take the baby from the midwife’s arms, tucking her against his chest. “Hello Elise, my sweet angel.” He whispered, completely enraptured by his new daughter before moving over to Anthea’s side, kneeling down beside her. “Tibi gratias ago, Anthea, hoc donum. Non possum dicere satis est: gratias ago tibi.”  _ Thank you, Anthea, for this gift. I can never say it enough, thank you.  _ Greg murmured, smiling over to Miles and nodding for him to come over as well so he could see his baby cousin. “She’s perfect. Thank you.” 

*****

          It had been easy, falling into a routine of getting up throughout the night, Gregory needing sleep far more than he did, as he was used to sleeping so very little. After the first time holding her, it was practically second nature, cradling her head and smiling when he saw those previous, wide eyes look up at him. Getting up rather early this time, he stretched as he walked into her nursery, going through the motions of changing her diaper and getting her a bottle, making their way towards the office as he lay her out on his chest, Mycroft opening his laptop and getting to work. He had managed to secure the home office a little better, and there were only a few times throughout the week he actually had to go into the office, and usually at that point Gregory was able to stay at home with her. They had fallen into a nice schedule, easily being able to stay home with her as much as they needed, and not once yet having to use a sitter, but then again, it had only been a couple weeks. After a couple hours, Gregory emerged, leaning against the door jamb as he looked to him. 

          “What, you’ll walk around shirtless for her, and not for me?” Rolling his eyes at Gregory’s jest and giving him a playful glare, Mycroft gave the other a kiss when he walked over, smiling as he saw the way his partner looked to Elise. 

          “Skin to skin contact is best for her, it helps her bond with us. So excuse me if I wish the best for my daughter. As far as I am concerned, we have already bonded over two thousand years, so no, I will not prance about the house shirtless for you,” Mycroft quipped, chuckling as he shook his head and looked down at the little one, shifting as she heard her father’s voice. 

          “I’d very much like to see you prance at all. Her hair is starting to come in, you know. Strawberry blonde, I wonder where she got that from.” 

          “Yes, well she has your eyes, that’s for sure. I know they aren’t brown yet, but they are just as sweet. I have no doubts she will get your colour as well,” Placing a kiss on the infant’s head, he went back to work on his computer, Gregory leaving the room and sounds now coming from the kitchen as he made food. Getting a few more emails sent off, he looked up when his partner brought him breakfast, frowning when the man took Elise from him, never wanting to give her up. 

          “Let’s trade so you can actually eat and get some work done,” It was always so sweet to see Gregory sing to her, his voice soft and gentle as he hummed the lullaby his mother always sang to him, same he had used when Miles was little. “Yes, hello my angel. Let’s let Tata work and Daddy have some cuddle time yeah?” Mycroft watched as they left the room, smiling and taking a moment before turning back to his computer, getting back to work with a sigh.

          After a while, Gregory came back, holding Elise on his shoulder as he finished up the last of the documents that needed to be sent out right away, sighing as he filed away some of the paperwork and locked the drawer. 

          “Think you can take a break to sit out in the garden with us? We’re just going to stay under the shade, but it’ll be nice to take her outside for a bit.” Glad for an interruption, he closed his laptop and walked out with them, happy to stretch his legs and get some fresh air. Grabbing a blanket quick to sit on, he joined them both, laying out under a tree and holding his arms out to take Elise so she could stretch out over his chest. 

          “I know she won’t stay this little for long, but I already think time is going too fast. It’s been two weeks already, and I can’t believe we’ve had her for that long.” Mycroft sighed, looking down at the sweet face of his perfect little girl, the little one sleeping so soundly. 

          “I don’t want to give up these moments with her being so small and innocent, but at the same time, I can’t wait until she’s older, for her to start exploring and talking and being able to play with her out here… Here’s to hoping she can’t negotiate as well as you can, though, or we’ll never get our way with her. Still feels like a dream, actually having our family now.” 

          “Yes, I guess it does.” Mycroft sighed, a small frown tugging at the corners of his lips as he looked down to his sleeping daughter. It had been nearly a year since Sherlock had left, and as much as his brother pretended not to care, he knew that he would have been a great uncle, just like he had been great with Miles. Running his hand over Elise’s back, he pressed his lips into a thin line as he wondered how much time it would be before he would be back, and what steps he would miss with her. The thought upset him more than he let on, letting out a sigh and turning to look away, his chest beginning to tighten. 

          “They will have quite literally all the time in the world to get to know each other. It’ll be alright.” Of course Gregory knew that he was fretting about his brother, he didn’t even have to say a word and the man could read him like a book. 

          “I know. I just… I don’t like that he will be missing out on the first major parts of her life. We have no way of knowing how long he will be gone, and she will grow so quickly. Just missing the first year, he won’t see her learn to walk, laugh, babble, sit up, any of those precious milestones, and I know he will claim not to care, but we both know that is a lie.” Mycroft sighed, giving a sad smile as he looked over to Gregory, the man now resting his hand over his own. “I know there is nothing we can do, and when he comes back he will have a chance to know her, I just can’t imagine what it will be like when he comes home and she’s doesn’t even know who he is.” 

          “Everything will sort itself out eventually. I’m sure of it. Now come on, let’s enjoy the weather a little longer before work calls you back inside. Or a diaper change… whichever comes first.” He knew Gregory was right, that eventually things would work out, and honestly, before now he had never thought of this as a problem, but having their daughter with them put everything in a new light. Giving the man a soft smile, he just nodded before resting back again, looking down at his sweet daughter sleeping on his chest. 

*****

          Greg hummed to himself as he worked on decorating the Christmas tree, grinning to himself at the excited squeal of laughter from Elise when he plugged in the lights after draping them around the tree. 

          “See, now with two of us who like Christmas, maybe we can convince Tata it’s not such a bad thing.” He laughed, walking over to the playpen they had set up now that she was starting to figure out how to move around, to scoop his daughter up, pressing a kiss to her cheek which she grinned at. Mycroft had been right, Elise had grown to have his chocolate brown eyes, with My’s red hair in loose curls. “We just have to figure out how to baby proof the tree,” Greg murmured, walking back over to the live tree he had convinced Mycroft to allow him to get for Elise’s first Christmas, and shaking his head as she reached out for one of the branches, only to frown as she opened and closed her hand now coated with sap. “You are far too much like Tata, you know that? He doesn’t like the sap either.” He agreed, lifting Elise up just enough to kiss her nose, one of his favourite things to do because she made the exact same face as Mycroft. “Now come on, let’s get you cleaned up before Tata gets home, then the two of you can play while I make dinner.” It wasn’t long before Mycroft came home, having got a good portion of the food squared away before he saw his partner come into the kitchen and over to their daughter. 

          “Good evening the both of you. I take it you both have already ruined the living room with Christmas decor,” Greg laughed as he rolled his eyes, leaning into Mycroft’s kiss before putting a small scoop of mashed sweet potatoes on a plate for Elise to at least try and eat, deciding it was soft enough that it would be no different than the prepackaged stuff. 

          “Yes, we ruined the living room, and she loved the lights, thank you.” He shot right back, their easy banter back and forth always making him smile. He knew it was just because Christmas had become something of a running joke, but he would never pass up doing it for their daughter. Giving a few directions to Mycroft for putting different dishes into the oven and setting the timer, Greg finished up what he needed to tend to on the stove top before setting everything to simmer and bake, leaning back against the counter with a fond smile as he watched Mycroft sitting beside Elise, holding a very serious discussion with her about everything wrong with Christmas, and instead how Saturnalia was a much better choice, all in Latin. “You’re horrible, you know that?” Greg asked with a sigh, pouring them both a glass of wine before getting a bottle of watered down juice for Elise, playfully tapping her nose and grinning at the face she made before grabbing at her bottle. “But she will never doubt if she is yours or not, seeing as you both make the same faces when I do that.” 

          “Yes, well we both find it just as ridiculous, dextera mea lux?”  _ Right my light?  _ Elise smiling as she took the bottle, mouthing at it and holding the bottle up herself. “She is both of ours, and no one could deny that. She has your eyes, and can warm the coldest of hearts,” Mycroft placed a hand over his chest and Greg rolled his eyes, “And unfortunately, my pale complexion and red curls, though I must say, it looks far better on her,” 

          “You hardly have a cold heart, My. Only when you get angry at people not doing their job.” Greg shook his head, leaning down to press a kiss to Elise’s other cheek at the same time as Mycroft, and laughing at her delighted squeal as she kicked her legs and waved her arms around in excitement. “Angelus nostrae modicum, lumen in nostro mundo.”  _ Our little angel, the light of our world.  _ Greg chuckled as he ruffled their daughter's hair before brushing back Mycroft’s with his nails. 

          “It is a good thing I have always known it was you upon our meeting, otherwise I would never be able to hide my true personality,” Mycroft chuckled, Greg shaking his head as he smiled to his partner. 

          “Now, the two of you can keep everything under control here, and I’m going to get washed up and change for dinner.” He smiled, excusing himself to their bedroom to change his shirt. Greg had long since learned not to cook in anything he wouldn’t mind getting food splattered on, and while it was just friends who were far more family now, he still wanted to dress up a bit for the night. Gathering up a few gifts they had wrapped for Anthea, Ryan and Miles, he brought them down with him and put them in Mycroft’s office for now, blinking in surprise at how loud Elise could scream sometimes at the sound of the doorbell, the little girl having long since learned it was always someone fun when it rang. “Got it,” He called, opening the door and greeting everyone with a wide grin as he was half tackled in a hug by Miles. “Hey lad, Happy almost Christmas.” Mycroft came up a few minutes after with Elise, leaning in to say hello as well. 

          “Happy Christmas Eve.” Watching as My crouched down with Elise so Miles could say hello, they all gave a soft smile as they watched how the boy acted around her, always so excited to show her new things but being surprisingly gentle with her in every situation. “Et dicere salve mi frater tuus lumen.”  _ Say hello to your cousin my light.  _ It had been the only thing that Greg had any concerns about with Miles, not out of spite, but on accident from being an excitable four year old. Patting the boy’s back after he had given his cousin a careful hug, Greg let him run off to the living room to his toys while the adults got dinner sorted out and put everything on the table. 

          “How’s Elise been?” Ryan asked as he helped, making faces at the baby where she sat in her high chair. 

          “Brilliant. She really is, but stubborn as any Holmes. She won’t just crawl, she’ll sit there until you help her stand, because she wants to walk,” Greg chuckled, grinning back at his little girl while she beat around her spoon and cooed happily. It was moments like this, seeing the pure adoration in Greg and Mycroft’s face for their child, that Ryan knew that he and Anthea had done the right thing for them. 

          “I’m sure you’ll be glad for the security team once she does start toddling,” Ryan said with a smirk, laughing at the look of confusion that flashed across Greg’s face. “You’ll always have at least two extra people to keep track of her. If she’s anything like Miles, you’ll need it. I swear that boy could teleport.” 

          “Yes, I’m sure she will be a terror once she starts moving, and even more so when she can talk,” Mycroft chuckled, starting up again with the sweet potatoes, having to scoop it off her face each time as she stuck her tongue out in an attempt to eat. “So, Miles is four, soon to be going to school. What is your plan for his education? Gregory and I seem to be at a stalemate on that front, and it would be nice to know what decision you both came to.” Ryan paused for a moment before setting down the plates and clearing his throat. 

          “We plan on sending him to primary school with other children so he can make friends, then home school him at least at the start of secondary. If he wants to go back to school with the others, then we’ll allow him, because we know he’ll be old enough to understand what he can and can’t say to his teachers and friends, and we can still teach him our history as well.” He explained, looking over to Anthea with a faint smile. 

          “But if he starts getting frustrated or upset, we’ll take him out and homeschool him immediately,” Anthea added with an assured nod, leaning back to check on the living room where Miles was running around in his own world. “We think it’ll be the best of both worlds. He has so much energy and is already so social, we want him to have friends of his own making that he can play and do things with.” 

          “Have you decided when to tell Miles about his immortality?” Mycroft asked, Greg nodding as that wasn’t something he had thought of just yet, knowing they still had time with Elise. 

          “We’re planning on doing that when we home school him, since that would be when he’s going through puberty as well. Everything else is changing, why not that too?” Ryan joked dryly, laughing when Anthea smacked his shoulder. 

          “We’ll be far nice about it than that,” She warned, Ryan raising his hands in surrender before stepping out to get Miles to clean up for dinner. Settling everyone down together, Greg couldn’t help but smile at how they all naturally sat around one another, Miles settled between his parents, and Elise between hers, their first big holiday together feeling as though it had always been this way. 

          “I’m glad we’re able to do this, and always will be able to, or for however long My let’s me get away with celebrating Christmas.” Mycroft rolled his eyes at the jest, everyone else chuckling softly at the joke. 

          “Happy Christmas Everyone,"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to the lives lost at the Pulse Nightclub. My co-writer actually knew some of those who passed, so this was a difficult week for her specifically. We wanted to put something here for those who were affected, family and friends as well. As a queer individual myself, I felt the wake of fear it left in our community, and I saw the worry that we had all the way up in Michigan because our pride festival was moved inside that year. I hope that we can keep strong and move forward so that one day LGBTA kids won't have to live in fear of being who they are.


	50. XLIX

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's the chapter a little early my lovelies, just because I will be spending all day tomorrow at my local Pride Festival! I'm sorry if you speak Gaelic and we butchered it to pieces, we would love for some help if you do know it, but left to our own resources, the best we could do was google translate, and believe me, I know how bad that can be! I can also say that Kaitlin and myself fell in love with Anthea and Ryan even more, because who couldn't, and we already have plans after this story to add them to our list of short one shots that we want to write later on. (One shots will be based of Holmes Everlasting, so they will include Anthea and Ryan, The Holmes/Lestrade family, maybe even grown up Elise and Miles, who knows! Submit suggestions and maybe you will see your idea for them come to fruition!)

          Greg didn’t know how the time had passed so fast, but before he knew it, it was early spring and Elise was pulling herself up and cruising, holding onto the sofa, her father’s legs, absolutely anything she could get her hands on. Finding a rare day that he both had off and the weather wasn’t crap, Greg rand up Ryan to see if he was up to taking Miles out to play in the park, the adults and Elise settling themselves on a blanket in a patch of warm sunlight while Miles ran around on the nearby playset. 

          “You know, with Elise’s birthday coming up, I realised there’s still some things I don’t really know about immortality. Do you stop celebrating birthdays after a certain point? Mycroft never really told me his birthday, I always thought it was more because of his personality, but really… the calendar has completely changed since he was born,” Greg said after a while, supporting Elise with his fingers as she carefully toddled around before dropping down with a happy giggle, content to have everyone’s attention. “Never mind in the future when she finds out about her immortality and everything that entails. How do we even explain the hard parts of… you know, death and all that, to them? How do we explain the process of finding their partner?”

          “Well, Romans were big party people. They loved to throw a festival for whatever they could, and they were always drinking, and eating, and binging. They definitely celebrated birthdays,” There was a little bite to the man’s words, but Greg could tell he didn’t mean anything by it, possibly just old habits. “You are right though, about it not being a part of his personality. As for other cultures though, like my own, we saw birthdays with suspicion, that brought evil spirits instead. Caledonian people didn’t celebrate much outside of a few holidays, and most were good changes, like the solstice. I guess it really just depends on the family and their history. We’ve celebrated Miles’ birthday, but it’s because he is growing up in a culture that does, but Anthea and I have lived so long, why bother anymore?” Ryan shrugged, catching Elise as she toppled forward. “As for how we tell them, well I’m sure it will sound a lot like how Mycroft has told you each life, or the same with Anthea and myself. We can’t sugar coat it, but we can do our best to answer their questions.” Greg scooped up Elise into his arms, hugging her to his chest with a kiss before setting her down in his lap while he looked around the park, smiling at how Miles so naturally made friends as he ran around to play. 

          “So you’re from where exactly? Caledonian, was that close to Celts?” He asked after a beat, pulling over the baby bag that he found himself with to get a snack for Elise to have. “How did the two of you meet then? You would have seen each other as savages, yet the two of you love each other to no end. How did that work out?”  

          “Yeah, I grew up in what is now Scotland, and trust me mate, we weren't always the best of lovers. Pretty sure Ann was ready to kill me the first time we met, and it’s not really the most romantic of love stories either, but funny how that stuff works out. Celts were a bit earlier than my time, but Caledonians and Celts have a lot in common. Caledonians were the last true natives to what is Great Britain now, and we gave the Romans a run for their money, keeping them out for as long as we could.” Maybe it was just because Ryan had lived with his memories for longer than he had, or there was just something special to him about that first life, but watching the man talk about it was as if that was all he remembered or that he had been alive since then instead of coming back time and time again. There was a fondness he couldn’t explain for his first memories, but maybe the longer he lived, the more things would blur together and it would feel all like one life and he would grow more fond over certain times over others. 

          “Well now I have to hear this!” Greg chuckled, smiling as Ryan shook his head with a laugh. 

          “Alright, but no judgement, this was a long time ago!” 

*****

_           “Look, those bastards have set up home just outside of the eastern front, down by our smaller villages. They mean to plunder, rape and steal! We need to do something!” Ryan banged his fist on the table as the commander looked to him, holding his ground as he challenged him with a stare. Just because the man was his father, didn’t mean that he had to bend to his will when he was being naive about the Romans. “We know they want a fight, sir. I say we take from them, like they have taken from us. Raid their camp, take their supplies, and their women!” There was a shout of agreement from the men around him and he could see his father’s resolve breaking down quickly, knowing that it wouldn’t be long till he agreed and he could gather his trusted brothers in arms and take back what had been stolen from them.  _

_           “There is no changing you mind, son. Go. Take the finest men, and wait until nightfall. Bring everyone home safe.” There was a flutter of triumph in his chest when he was granted approval, gaining a few slaps on the backs from the men as he stood tall, proud that they were finally taking action after years of abuse by the Romans. It didn’t take him long to get a plan together, more men willing to come with him than he knew what to do with, and his best mate standing by his side to help lead them along.  _

_           “I need you to take the majority of the men and grab the food stores and any supplies you can get out. I’m going with just a few to the other side where I believe the nobles are staying. We’ll see what sorts of pleasures we can bring back from there,” There was a dark chuckle from the soldiers around him, all knowing exactly what that meant. Ryan had taken his men and snuck around the side, pausing when he saw a fire still going outside the nobles tents. Smug bastards thought that just because there was only their clan left, they had won the war. Looking around the side of the tent, he saw a woman sitting at the fire. She was fair, but there was a hardness to her that he could see, she would put up a good fight. Looking back at the two that had followed him, he gave instructions for them to find the other noble women and leave this one for him. After they had left, he took a few steps, inwardly cringing when he stepped on a few pieces of kindling, the noise cracking through the camp attracting the attention of the woman. _

_           “Who comes there? Show yourself, or I will wake this camp!” Of course her hand went straight to her waist, most likely a knife hidden there, no real threat. He could understand most of what she was saying, having picked up a bit of Latin, but the language still sounded like a horrible harpy to him. Sneaking back around till he was at her back, he took a few steps out, taking his time before she was within reach. All it took was one step and he had her arm pinned behind her back and a hand over her mouth, silencing her as she tried to scream, fighting and kicking, but not gaining the upper hand.  _

_           “Shhh. Scream and I hurt you. I bringing you to my home. You’re mine.” He whispered in broken Latin, knowing he was really rusty and probably sounded like a child, but the language was dirty, and he only used it to trade with the other clans that had lost to the Romans. The woman most likely wouldn’t understand Gaelic, so that would have been useless. At least she could get the point of what he meant to say. Fiesty was one word for her as she bit his hand and elbowed him in the stomach, wriggling free of his grip and pulling out her dagger to face him.  _

_           “I am by no means yours, you… creature,” She hissed, but he watched as her eyes dragged over him, a smug smile tugging at his lips as she paused for a moment before putting her dark glare back in place. “Give me one good reason I should not scream right now and wake my husband?”  _

_           “Do that and the two other women that are already in our custody won’t make it out alive.” He was bluffing, he didn’t know if his men had got them already, but if they hadn’t, a fight would break out for certain, and there would be bloodshed. “I promise I no hurt you. Come with me, no one else die tonight.” Ryan took small steps towards her, watching as she back up to the fire, seeing she had nowhere else to go. There was a muffled cry off to the side, her head turning to look and he took advantage of the slip, grabbing both her arms and and knocking the dagger to the side, pulling her close to him, pressed against her back. “Alright princess, let us go.” He hated how he sounded, but at least she understood him and stayed silent. Walking with her through the camp back to where their horses were waiting, he bound her wrists with rope and helped her up onto the horse, sitting behind her to steady the woman.  _

_           “Our husbands will come for us. You must realise that.”  _

_           “Good, let them.” Ryan smirked, knowing that their numbers were nothing, and if they came to the Caledonian camp, they would be taken for all they had. When they reached home, the rest of the people were waiting for them, celebrating as they helped with the supplies. Giving directions to where everything was to be kept, and who would be on watch that night in case the Romans did come, Ryan then moved to help the woman down from the horse, bringing her back to his home. “You stay with me for now. It is better than prison.” Leading her to his home, he locked the door, moving her to the room next to his. “This is yours.” They hadn’t thought further ahead than just tonight, but they would be able to decide the fate of the women tomorrow.  _

_           “Oh yes, locked in another man’s house is so much better than being locked in with those I know.” She snapped, starting to squirm around against the ties against her wrists. “What, I’m just living with you now?”  _

_           “Tomorrow we have answer.” Ryan pieced the Latin together, crossing his arms over his chest. She really was beautiful, even with a scowl on her face. He was the second in command for battle, so technically he was inclined to whatever spoils he wished from the war, but the supplies and other women be damned, he didn’t care, he had his prize. This one intrigued him, so different from the other women in his village. Feisty and willing to put up a fight. They way she fought against the restraints though, told him she would try and escape, and unless she knew her way back to the Roman camp, it wasn’t safe to be running off at night alone, not for a woman. “Come,” He gestured for her to come near, willing to take off the rope. When she glared and backed away, he sighed, rolling his eyes and moving towards her, waiting when she flinched, raising his hands to show that he meant her no harm. Slowly reaching for her arms, he undid the knots, letting the binds fall to the floor. “Much more comfortable, yes?” He watched as she looked to the rope, taking her wrists the rubbing them before kicking the rope to the side and looking back up at him.  _

_           “What’s your name?” She asked after a minute. “Your name?” Brows furrowing, he wasn’t sure what she was asking. He thought he had an idea, but he was still a little confused. “My name is Anthea,” With her hand to her chest, it finally clicked.  _

_           “Anthea? Very…” He took a moment, mulling over a few words in his head, not wanting to say the wrong thing to the woman who could make his life hell tonight. It was different, not one he had heard, certainly not common in Gaelic households, but then again, it did sound rather Roman. “Pretty.” He finally decided on, thinking that if he said ‘interesting’ that it would be taken wrong. “Ryan,” Laying his hand on his chest, he looked to the woman, examining her now that they weren’t riding on horseback, or with a knife pointed at him.  _

_           “Ryan,” She repeated back, the name sounding different on her tongue.  _

_           “This husband, you say, is he fighter?” Ryan didn’t know why the women were with the warriors, or why there were noble families there, or how Roman classes worked at all, and personally he didn’t care, but it seemed a bit odd that a warrior would leave his wife all alone, unprotected, while staying so close to people they called barbarians.  _

_           “My husband is a soldier, yes.” She said with a small nod. “I couldn’t sleep and had stepped out to see the stars. You are foolish to think my people will simply allow their wives to disappear without pursuing them.”  _

_           “I don’t think they won’t come. I want them to fight, come. We will…” Ryan paused for a moment, realising he didn’t know the right word, cursing to himself at this ridiculous language. “Boireannach a 'cur mallachd air, carson a tha thu a' bruidhinn ann an leithid teanganna! Thu fuaim mar an droch spiorad, a 'cleachdadh a leithid fuaimean neònach!”  _ Curses woman, why do you speak in such tongues! You sound like an evil spirit, using such odd sounds! _ He cursed in Gaelic, feeling far better using his own tongue rather than the foreign one. Sighing, he threw his hands up in the air when she looked at him as if he had lost it, knowing it was pointless. “I’m strong, good fighter. This husband, no.” He shook his head, hoping she would get what he was saying. “Roman’s aren’t fighters like Caledonians.”  _

_           “You say that, and yet your land is ours despite how much you say your people are able to fight well.” She shot back with a smirk, her arms crossed over her chest.  _

_           “Caledonians are last group standing. Roman’s have not won.” Ryan smiled, rather proud of that fact. He always knew their tribe was the best, but they had nothing to prove that until recently, and though he wished for the rest of the inhabitants of this land to be free from the bastards, he was rather smug that they alone had withstood the invaders. “Come, your sleep room.” Opening the door, he watched as she eyed him, Ryan sighing and taking a few steps away, gesturing for her to look that he wasn’t trying to trap her somewhere inhumane. “There is bed for you.” It took her a bit to finally walk over and look inside, but he followed her in slowly. “Stay tonight. Outside is dangerous, you don’t know way.” There were creatures that would attack her, traps they had set for Romans that could hurt her, or other tribes that wouldn’t be as kind as he was being now.  _

_           “I don’t believe I have a choice,” She muttered, sitting down on the edge of the bed with a huff. “Forgive me if I do not trust you enough to sleep tonight.” She did have a choice, if she really wanted, she could try to escape, but with Latin not being familiar, he couldn’t use his normal tone so instead he shrugged.  _

_           “You would be…” he trailed off again, not sure how to say foolish, trying to figure a work around, hating that he was struggling. “You would be not intelligent to trust,” It was good enough, and she would understand, and if not, then there was nothing more he could do. “See you in morning.” With that, he turned around and closed the door, knowing that the window was far too small for her to fit through, not worrying she would escape, and he was placing a block in front of the door so she couldn’t wander the house while he slept. Stretching, he made his way to his bed, stripping to just his under clothes and laying over his furs, falling asleep within minutes.  _

 

_           In the morning, he removed the block, waiting for her to come out on her own, and instead making his way to the food stores to see what he could make for breakfast. Working on cooking, he started humming while he did, keeping his wits about him and listening to see when Anthea would come out and explore, or try to escape, or even come for food, her stomach hungry. Pausing for only a moment when he heard the door open, Ryan continued to hum, shifting the vegetables so they wouldn’t burn over the fire, and flipping the meat.  _

_           “What are you singing?” Anthea asked after a minute, Ryan smiling at the question.  _

_           “Seo Uileo Thoil,” He answered simply, not thinking anything of it till he could see her give a face, realising that of course, she wouldn’t understand. “I think you say Deer Walking,” Watching as she walked through the house, she stopped at the wall, looking up at his tapestry.  _

_           “What does this say?” Looking to it, he smiled with a sad look to the wedding banner his mother had left to him when she passed, his father not being able to cope with her loss and saying that having it in his home brought back sad memories.  _

_           “It was promise. My mother and father. A marriage promise.” It was a dream of his to have a marriage like his parents, never having seen two people so in love, who cared so much for one another. Standing straight as he left the food to cook a little more, he walked over, touching the words reverently as he said a silent prayer to his mother.  _

_           “And your wife? What of her? Or is that why you stole me?”  _

_           “No wife. I took you to fight bastards,” Ryan snipped, returning to the food and taking it off the fire, serving some in a bowl for Anthea at the table before taking a seat himself and digging in. “Eat before is cold.” Or not, that was her choice, but he knew she had to be hungry. Eating, he was practically half way through before she made a move to join him, Ryan keeping an eye on her the entire time as she hesitantly sat down. “You will not be slave here. Do not run though, bad choice.” Ryan took another bite of meat, humming in appreciation as he soothed the ache in his rumbling stomach. “I can’t watch you all times. I can’t stay home. I have job. You will stay with Fiona.” She would be tough enough to deal with Anthea’s feisty personality, and he was sure she could keep the Roman woman busy while he attended to his tasks.  _

 

_           The first week came and went, and the Romans never came. He knew it had affected Anthea, though she would never say anything to admit weakness. Ryan had been at work with the other soldiers, training and working on their technique when Fiona had come up to him, telling him that she had to drag Anthea back to the house for breaking Aidan’s arm. Frowning, a rage started to boil over, thinking he had just finally started to trust her, that he was letting his guard down, and here the woman was assaulting someone. When Fiona told him why though, his rage quickly being redirected towards Aidan, heading straight off to find the man. He was off with friends, all of them surrounding him and trying to patch up his arm, his eyes wide when he saw him coming towards them. It didn’t take much to drag the man behind him, cries falling from his lips as he didn’t even pause to make sure he hadn’t grabbed somewhere painful, not caring at the moment. Stopping when he had reached the garden, seeing Anthea now sitting with her arms crossed, he shoved Aidan to her feet, watching as she looked up. “Leisgeul, a-nis! Chan eil mi a 'gabhail cùram ma tha i an coigreach, i leamsa, nach eil thu eas-urram aice no boireannach sam bith eile, a tha a' tuigsinn !?”  _ Apologise now! I don’t care if she is an outside, she belongs to me, you do not disrespect her or any other woman, is that understood!?”  _ Aidan looked terrified, sitting between the both of them, Ryan giving him one last chance before the man flinched and turned back to Anthea, starting to mutter off his apolgies in Gaelic. “Tha fios agad nach eil ia 'bruidhinn ar teanga! Cleachd rithe! Tha fios agam thu ga bruidhinn a thuilleadh air dhomh a dhèanamh!"  _ You know she doesn’t speak our tongue! Use hers! I know you speak it as well as I do!  _ There was a slight pause before Aidan’s attention went back to Anthea, his words shaky and slow.  _

_           “I sorry. I should not do things like that.” It wasn’t a very heartfelt apology, and he knew that there was little Aidan could say in Latin, as was his case, but it was a start. Looking to Anthea, who looked rather shocked by the whole turn of events, sitting with her back straight, he waited to see if she would accept. Watching as Anthea gave a small nod before standing and excusing herself back into the house, Ryan smacked the back of Aidan’s head, thinking now of what to do as the man scrambled to get away. Sighing heavily, he walked into the house, seeing that her door was closed, and knowing it was probably best to leave her be for now. Instead, he stayed home the rest of the day, deciding to make dinner, something special in hopes to make up in some small way for what had happened. When the meal was finished, he put all of it on a platter and walked to her door, knocking once before pushing the door open.  _

_           “Anthea?” His voice was soft as he saw the woman curled on the bed, her arms wrapped around her knees. “I’ve made food, special.” Moving to take a seat at the end of the bed, he set the tray down, waiting for her to look at him and not just off into the distance, but she was still quiet. “I’m sorry for today. Aidan was wrong. He pay, not just apologising.” He tried to explain, knowing that he had the man cleaning stables and doing slave labour for the next few weeks as punishment till he learned his lesson. “You should not be touched, not anyone. Not unless you want.”  _

_           “Thank you.” Her voice was hoarse as she cleared her throat. The poor woman looked miserable, and he felt truly sad for her that she was not adapting as well as he had hoped. He knew it hit her hard that her husband had never come for her either, but he never said a word to her about it, not wanting to poke her wounds. She was now his guest, in his house, free to leave and do as she wished, he wasn’t holding her back. When he had taken her, his plan had been as revenge against the warriors at the camp, but they hadn’t seemed phased at all, as none of them had retaliated or come to get them back. “Tha thu…” Anthea started, Ryan hearing the beginnings of his language on her tongue, his face lighting up and his heart softening as he saw her give up, tears welling in her eyes. “You are kind. I don’t understand why you are so kind to me, but thank you. I miss home. My friends, my parents…. My husband never came back for me… it’s not right that you defend me more than he did. Will you eat with me tonight? I’m tired of being alone.” Taking a seat on the bed, he took the offered bread, breaking a little off to chew on.  _

_           “You will never be alone here. I defend you, that is right thing to do. I’m sorry your husband no come. You are worth more.” Ryan stumbled over his Latin, having tried to learn more with her in his home, but not having many to practice with. “If you want learn Gaelic, I’ll teach,” He smield, hoping it would help her feel more at home if she could understand everyone here. “Mo bhan-dia Ròmanach,”  _ My Roman Goddess.  _ Reaching up, he cupped her cheek, bringing her gaze up to meet his own. For a moment he was glad she couldn’t understand, but she would soon enough. She was unlike any other he had ever known, stronger than anyone gave her credit for, and smart too.  _

 

_           More time passed, and Anthea started to look happier, learning the language, spending time with the other Roman women, helping them adjust, and finding her own place within the village. He really started to believe that the Romans were never coming to get their women, that was till he heard shouting through the village, men riding back on horse to gather the warriors. Running outside, he saw Anthea and moved to her side, placing a hand on her back as she looked to him.  _

_           “Ryan! Dè tha iad a 'dèanamh?”  _ Ryan! What they do?  _ A smile touched his lips at her broken Gaelic, her accent still off but getting better with each day.  _

_           “A Ròmanach duine a 'tighinn a dh'ionnsaigh dhuinn, amaideach aonar. Tha sinn a 'dol a stad e.”  _ A Roman man is coming towards us, foolishly alone. We’re going to stop him.  _ He explained as he mounted his horse, Anthea pausing only for a second before rushing to his side and grabbing his ankle to keep him there.  _

_           “Gabh…” She started before giving up and flipping back to her own tongue. “Take me with you, we can talk them down. I know many of them, I can negotiate for you.” Anthea argued, looking to him with a pleading gaze. Hesitating for just a moment, he held his hand out after a few seconds, helping her mount the horse. “Thank you.” She whispered, Ryan wrapping his arms around her waist to keep her in place before digging his heels into the horse's side, shouting to get the beast to move. Riding out, he could see the white cloth of the Roman’s garb fluttering behind him as he rode fast to meet them, Anthea leaning in as if to see the man better. Giving the signal, the rest of the warriors raised their bows, ready to fire on his command, his hand in the air ready to give the order when Anthea shouted, pulling his arm down, his brow furrowed. “Stop! He’s a friend!” She started, trying to look to him and plead. “Mo charaid. mas e do thoil e.”  _ My friend. Please.  _ Ryan gave the signal for his men to slow, watching the Roman approach, very brazen as he rode alone. Before he could do anything, he felt Anthea slip off the horse and saw her start running towards the other man. Swearing under his breath, Ryan jumped from his horse, taking off after her, impressed and frustrated that she was just fast enough to keep out of his grasp, and had enough of a head start to evade him.  _

_           “Anthea!” He called, trying to push himself further. The other man had slipped from his horse as well and was now wrapping her up in his arms, looking to him with wide eyes and trying to now tug her towards his horse. To his surprise, Anthea shook her head, reaching out towards him as he stopped at her side.  _

_           “Ryan, mo charaid. Mycroft.”  _ Ryan, my friend. Mycroft.  _ She tried to explain the best she could, his eyes going to the red head. “I know it’s insanity but listen to me. This man is a good man. These people aren’t any worse than those back at home, Mycroft. Our husbands never came to find us but Ryan has protected me, has taken care of me while I’ve been here. He can understand more Latin than he can easily speak, but he’s… he’s a good man, Mycroft. For me, don’t fight with him.” Ryan watched intently, picking up on the majority of her conversation, knowing that she was defending him to her friend, but not being able to understand it all as she spoke so quickly.  _

_           “If he’s such a good man, why did he take you in the first place and why has he kept you here?” The Roman’s voice sounded angry as he looked to him, his gaze harsh. “And now you have her speaking your language and wearing your clothes, what’s next? Trying to have your way with her? She has a husband and would never be with the likes of you,” This man was pushing his limits, Ryan feeling the rage simmering under his skin as his hand went to the hilt of his sword when the man stepped in front of her, standing between him and Anthea.  _

_           “Because it’s war, Mycroft!” Anthea fought, pushing the man’s arm away from her and moving to stand between them once more. “He has granted me leave through the village and has given me protection and for the love of the Gods, Mycroft! My husband, if you dare still call him that, never came for me. If I am nothing to him, he is nothing to me, and how  _ dare  _ you talk about ‘the likes of him’ when the same has been said before about you and Gregori?” He wasn’t sure who this Gregori was, but he had a feeling it was someone close to the other man as the name had caught his attention, the anger now shifted from him to Anthea.  _

_           “This is  _ nothing  _ like Gregori and I, he took you, kidnapped you from your husband, from your people, from us, your family! I came for you as soon as I heard what had happened. I care, so don’t use those things against me!” Anthea didn’t even respond, instead he took a stance he had seen plenty of times from her, crossing her arms over her chest and staring daggers to her friend. It was a look that had struck fear in a certain group of men in his village, namely Aidan, and one he didn’t dare cross. Apparently, neither did the Roman, sighing and standing down. “I promise I won’t take you against your will, but can we have a few moments to speak alone?”  _

_           “A moment?” Anthea asked him, Ryan pressing his lips into a thin line before giving her a short nod, back away to talk to his men. After assuring them he had everything under control, they all rode back, Ryan standing by the side of his horse, his heart aching as he worried he would lose her, seeing the two of the wrapped around one another now. They weren’t alone for too long, but he still wondered what she would do. He knew he couldn’t keep her here if she really wanted to go, but he didn’t want to let her leave. When they walked back towards him, he tried to give her a shaky smile, unsure why his heart was aching so much. “Tha ea 'fuireach ... biadh?”  _ He stay.... Food?  _ Anthea tried to ask in his language. _

_           “ _ _ Dìnnear,” _ _ Ryan chuckled as he gently reminded her of the word for dinner before nodding but pointing at the Roman’s sword. She turned towards her friend, speaking quickly again in Latin, telling her friend about his sword. “Thig, nì mi dinnear nuair a ràinig sinn an taigh.”  _ Come, I’ll make dinner when we reach the house.  _ Ryan had only been speak to her in Gaelic, knowing that it would help her learn more quickly, but he did it now more to spite her friend, knowing that he couldn’t understand. The Roman looked reluctant to hand over his weapon, but Anthea got it from him, handing it off and he attached it to his horse. Ryan listened to the two of them talk as they walked back, only picking up parts of their conversation as the Latin was far too fast for him to understand all of it. When they reached the house, he put the Roman’s sword away in his room before returning to the main hall, deciding on what to make for dinner. Anthea always seemed to prefer fish, so he decided that if this would be his last night with her, then he would make her something special. Her and the man took their time chatting, sitting at the table in the other room, and he could hear the familiarity in their conversation, even if he couldn’t always understand it. This was harder than he thought, knowing that she would most likely be gone by tomorrow, leaving with her Roman friend. He had never kept her against her will, always saying she had a choice to leave, but he knew she never would because it was too dangerous. Now though… sighing, he worked on finishing the meal, not sure why this upset him so much to have the woman leaving to head back to her home. It had only been a tradition for the past week for her to help in the kitchen, usually giving her a lesson in Gaelic, but not having her there now made the tightness in his chest even worse. Sighing, he quickly finished the prep and placed the fish on the fire to cook, concentrating so hard he didn’t even notice when she came up beside him. This was it, she was going to tell him she would be…  _

_           “Chan eil mi a 'dol dhan Ròimh,” She said softly, his eyes widening and his jaw dropping as he heard her say that she was staying here instead of going home. “'S toigh leam seo. Is caomh leam thu. Mycroft a 'tighinn a Lunnainn. Tha mi a 'tighinn còmhla ris.”  _ I like here. I like you. Mycroft come to London. I come with him. 

_           “Tha sibh toilichte seo? Toigh leat mi?”  _ You like it here? You like me?  _ He questioned again, not sure that he had heard her correctly. “Tha thu a 'fuireach oir tha thu ag iarraidh, agus' ur caraid, tha iad a 'gluasad faisg air an seo cho math? Anthea, chan fheum thu seo a dhèanamh, tha thu saor an-asgaidh a 'dol. Know ma nì sibh airson fuireach an seo, a bheil thu an-còmhnaidh a 'cur fàilte, mo bhan-dia Ròmanach.”  _ You are staying because you want to, and your friend, they are moving closer to here as well? Anthea, you don’t have to do this, you are free to go. Know that if you do wish to stay here, you are always welcome, my Roman Goddess.  _ He still used the phrase, having purposefully staying away from those words so she wouldn’t understand it, not just yet.  _

_           “Tha na boireannaich. Iad a 'dol dhachaigh?”  _ The women. They go home?  _ At the request of the other Roman women going home, he didn’t even think twice, just agreeing knowing that he could convince the others to let them go, knowing they hadn’t adapted well. Ryan just gave a soft smile, nodding.  _

_           “Seadh, faodaidh iad a dhol dhachaigh.”  _ Yes, they can go home. 

_           “Is caomh leam thu. An toil leat mi?”  _ I like you. You like me?  _ When posed with the question of whether or not he liked her, he took a moment, hesitating and looking up to see that her friend was looking at the few books he had on his shelf, deciding to take a chance. Stepping closer, he gave her plenty of time to back away if she did not want this, reaching up and cupping her cheeks with both hands, rubbing his thumbs over her soft skin.  _

_           “Tha thu mo bhan-dia Ròmanach, mo èirigh na grèine, agus thachair a thug thu do m 'airm." _ You are my Roman goddess, my sunrise, and fate has brought you to my arms.  _ Seeing the blush rise up in her cheeks again, he smiled, slowly leaning in, closing the gap between them. He closed his eyes as he pressed his lips to hers, his breath hitching as he felt the spark travel down his spine. When she melted to him, he pressed a little further, holding tighter for a moment longer before reluctantly pulling back. There would be plenty of time to continue this if she was staying, and he didn’t need to have another lecture from the red-headed Roman who was still looking through his books. He didn’t know how to read any of them, but they had been his mother’s, so he had kept them. Dropping his hands to her shoulders as she wrapped hers around his waist, he pulled her into a hug, kissing the top of her head. Never once did he think he would fall for someone like Anthea, so strong willed and a Roman nonetheless. Then again, he wouldn’t have it any other way.  _

*****

          “She did stay, and you and Mycroft moved to London shortly after. It wasn’t till later that I learned the truth behind this all, that I was to come back to her,” Ryan smiled fondly, thinking back to it as if it were just last week. Looking up after a few moments when Greg remained silent, he saw the look on the other’s face and chuckled, shaking his head. “What?” 

          “You’re so gentle, how I’ve always known you. It’s just crazy to hear that the two of you met because you kidnapped her.” 

          “Yes well, different times,” Ryan shrugged, smiling fondly at the memory. “There are still times when Anthea brings it up, usually using it to get her way, saying that I will always owe her for kidnapping her, but I do my own teasing as well. I won’t lie, I still don’t have the hang of Latin, and it still sounds rough to me, seeing as Ann learned Gaelic for me, but it doesn’t evoke the same feelings it used to. I still tease her about that as well,” Elise let out a squeal as she fell from her feet again, Ryan chuckling at her giant grin. 

          “Do you maybe want to get Miles and see if we can catch Mycroft and Anthea at the office after their last meeting of the day? We could all go out somewhere for dinner, that would be nice.” 

          “I’ll go and get him, and we can go to the office,” Standing, he helped pack up their things, calling for Miles as the boy looked to them both, showing his distaste for the fact that they were leaving by refusing to come and continuing on like he hadn’t heard them. Sighing, Ryan walked to the playground, ready to fight with his son so they could leave, a smile on his lips. 

*****

          It had been one of those days where he had been called into the office, Anthea there with him, and they had been in meetings all day. He had hoped to stay home and spend the day with his partner and daughter, but the country didn’t play nice. Just as they came out of their last meeting, Mycroft stopped mid sentence as he spoke with Anthea, hearing voices from in his office. Frowning, he moved to the door, wondering who had been let in while he was out. Moving around the corner, he saw Gregory kneeling in the middle of the floor, holding onto Elise’s hands as she teetered back and forth. 

          “Well, this is a pleasant surprise.” 

          “Look, it’s Tata,” Smiling when he saw Elise waving her arms to him, he started over to her, stopping only when Gregory told him to stay put. “Wait, stay there. Come here little love.” His brows tugged into a frown, wondering what this was about till Gregory hauled Elise back up to her feet, Mycroft understanding and dropping to a crouch, waiting with open arms as she started to take a few steps towards him. “Go to Tata, lass,” She only paused a moment to look back at her father before redirecting her attention to him with a renewed vigor, taking a few more steps again. His heart was overwhelmed as he watched their little girl taking her first steps, a smile spread across her face as she got too excited and started to get ahead of herself, losing her balance and toppling over, Mycroft catching her and scooping her into his arms. Standing with her, he kissed her cheek, a smile wide on both of their faces. 

          “Parva luce ambulans nunc!”  _ My little light, you are walking now!  _ Elise giggled as he tickled her belly, Gregory kissing his cheek and rubbing her back. “She is going to be a terror now,” Mycroft smiled as he looked to where his partner stood, now next to Anthea. 

          “She had nearly started at the park with me and Ryan. Now get ready for everything to be baby gates, all the time.” 

          “So, what did the two of you get up to today?” Anthea asked, smiling as she walked over to where Ryan stood with her son, leaning down to give Miles a kiss as well. 

          “We went to the park!” Miles announced happily as he dramatically made a face at the kiss his Mum gave him, Ryan shaking his head as he scrubbed the boy’s hair with his hand. 

          “It was a nice day, why not take the kids outside? Greg and I shared stories of wars and romance -” 

          “He told me about how the two of you first met.” Gregory cut Ryan off with a snort, Mycroft smiling as he thought about the memory. “Not how I had expected it, to be honest, but we wanted to stop here and see if maybe everyone wanted to go out somewhere casual for dinner,” Anthea gave Ryan an amused smirk, raising an eyebrow to him. 

          “Ah yes, the oh so romantic tale of star crossed lovers from rival clans, where Romeo kidnaps Juliet and she develops a severe case of stockholm syndrome,” She teased, giving Ryan a playful tap on the arse. 

          “I think I remember it a lot like that,” Mycroft smiled, chuckling as Elise buried her face in his chest again as Gregory continued to make faces at her. Ryan looked between them all, giving them a disbelieving stare, as if they all dared to gang up on him like that. “As for dinner, that sounds lovely. We just have to finish putting the paperwork away from the last meeting and we should be able to leave,” Handing Elise back off, he smiled as he watched Gregory and Ryan lead the kids out, happy that now both he and Anthea had their partners for good, and could now start their own families, just as they had become one all those years ago in Rome. 


	51. L

          Standing out in the garden with the children running around his feet, Mycroft smiled as Elise squealed, a smile plastered across her face as Miles chased her around and around. Stepping back into the house after a few minutes to check in with Gregory, he gave the man a kiss on the cheek as he grabbed the box of candles from the side, opening them up and grabbing one from the package to place it on top. 

          “Did you want to carry the cake or get drinks for everyone?” 

          “I have the cake, but let me first make sure that our little runner is in her seat, instead of running back out.” Heading outside, he waited for a moment, watching the children before bending down and capturing Elise in his arms, the toddler squealing as he rolled her into his arms and blew on her belly. “Licet parum lucis tempus lectus.”  _ Alright little light, time for cake.  _ Setting her down in the chair, Mycroft moved back to grab the cake, lighting the candle before walking out. 

          “Can’t believe she’s already so big, you know?” Nodding as his partner walked with him, Gregory starting singing, everyone joining in and Elise’s face lighting up as she listened. When they were finished, he leaned down next to her, placing a kiss on her cheek. 

          “Iam flare manum tuam lucerna,”  _ Now, blow out your candle.  _

          “Bow it out now, love,” Gregory prompted again as Elise looked around at everyone, showing her what to do before looking back at them with a confused frown. 

          “Quare?”  _ Why? _

          “Tam levis,  candelæ super lunam Dianae repraesentabant lectus. Ascendit fumus perlaturos dictitatis vota..."  _ Well little light, candles were placed on the cake that represented the moon for the goddess Diana. The smoke will carry your wishes up…  _ Mycroft stopped when he heard Gregory say his name, looking to his partner with a confused look. “What? She asked why and I-” He stopped again, realising what he had just said. Elise had asked why, she had talked. Looking with wide eyes down at his little girl, his jaw dropped as she stared to them both. “Levis revertemur?”  _ Come again little light?  _ Leaning down, he crouched so he was at her level, hoping to hear her again so this time he would actually register that she spoke. 

          “Quare!” She shouted, smiling as they all reacted, glad to see them all respond to her. 

          “Gregory, she’s talking!” Mycroft smiled, looking up to his partner, then over to Anthea and Ryan, still seeing the confused look on everyone else’s face who didn’t speak Latin. 

          “Couldn’t be Dada or Tata,” Gregory chuckled, leaning over to kiss the top of her head before turning to Molly and Mrs. Hudson. “Mycroft’s been teaching Elise Latin, because of course he is.” 

          “Oh… what did she say?” Mrs Hudson asked as Molly moved to help cut the cake. 

          “She asked ‘why’, because she’s a Holmes, and of course that would be her first word.” Her first word! It was her first word, she was speaking now! And to think that it happened to be in Latin! Mycroft knew that Gregory had been speaking to her in Latin and in English, and for the most part, he only spoke Latin, but he had been thinking she might say something like Dada first, but no! His little girl had said why, and in Latin! He was bursting with pride, the expression plastered all over his face. Smiling when Gregory sat a piece of cake down in front of her, he watched as she smashed her hands into the food, grabbing as much as she could and shoving whatever she was able to into her mouth. Shaking his head, he stood and kissed the top of her head, moving to Gregory’s side and wrapping an arm around the man’s side. “She takes after you, of course,” 

          “She is an inquisitive one, and I am sure she will give us both a run for our money, but she takes after you as well my moon. She is always trying to make others smile, and that is what makes her happy.” Mycroft smiled, looking down to his partner, giving him a soft squeeze. Everyday he could see her personality come out, and though she was completely her own, a grand personality she had created, there were times where all he could see was Gregory in her.

          “I know that you and John still aren’t on speaking terms, but I do wish he was here,” At the mention of John, his smile faded slightly, his lips pressing into a thin line. He hadn’t thought about the doctor in a long time, and though he was still angry about the incident that had occurred, he was starting to understand the pain and anger the man felt ever since he had lost contact with Sherlock. It had been radio silence for the last few months, no letters, no updates whatsoever. There was no way to know if his brother was okay or even alive, and it hurt him even more to know that Sherlock could be gone, and he would never know it, and his daughter would never get to know her uncle. He could see the same pain reflected in Gregory’s eyes, but neither of them mentioned it, trying to keep up hope. “It will be alright, it has to be.” His partner assured him, giving him a quick kiss before turning to their daughter now covered in cake. “You’re daughters a mess. Walking and talking now! You, our light, need to slow down on growing up so much!” Elise wiggled till she was taken out of the chair and set free to run, Molly and Anthea chasing the children around while Ryan sat patiently through one of Mrs. Hudson’s long winded stories, slowly inching the woman’s drink away from her to make sure she didn’t get any more wine drink than she already had found herself. Eventually things started to wind down, Elise coming over to her fathers and raising her hands up at Gregory’s side. “Tired fille? Well, why don’t we open gifts, then we can nap, okay love?” Mycroft sat down in the chair and took Elise from her father’s arms, the man grabbing the camera which seemed to have been attached to him for the past year, even though he was still wary on the subject. Gregory had told him multiple times that the photos were just for them, but it still did little to ease his worries. 

          “So, my light. This one is from Aunty Ann and Uncle Ryan, and your big cousin Miles.” Mycroft started, taking the box and holding it in front of them, Elise smiling up to him as she wasn’t too sure what to do. Getting it started, she then took charge, ripping the paper down the sides until it was completely unwrapped. Mycroft was rather surprised, looking up to the others with a smile on his face. “Wherever did you find this?” Anthea and Ryan just shrugged, not giving away their secrets. “Look little light, this is the Coliseum, certare solebant esse patrem tuum,”  _ Your father used to fight there.  _ They were large wooden building blocks that made up the Coliseum, his chest tight as he stared at the wonderful gift. 

          “That’s amazing.” Gregory grinned, taking the box and trading it out for another gift. “Alright love, this one is from Lizzy,” Elizabeth had been more than thrilled to meet Elise, their daughter none too shy and going right up to her with her arms out wide, wishing to be held. It was something, going full circle, having been with the queen when she was just a little girl, and now here she was, old enough to be Gregory's grandmother, and she was meeting their daughter. They knew they would have to visit soon and thank her for the gifts, the queen having given her soft plushies of the corgis, as well as a few children's books. “That’s adorable. Look, it’s just like Holly.” Mycroft smiled fondly as Elise held the plushy tight when Gregory went to replace it, everyone chuckling.    

          “This one is from Molly,” She had this down pat now, grabbing at the paper and tearing it down, revealing the box and looking to her fathers to explain what exactly it was. 

          “Never to early to start her on science,” Molly smiled nervously as they looked to the gift, a set of blocks with the periodic table of elements listed on them. 

          “These are lovely Molly, and I’m sure she will take after her Uncle Sherlock in his love of science, and maybe even some day, be as good as you are,” Mycroft said, a soft smile on his lips as he thought about his brother again. 

          “You’ll have to teach it to her though. Lord knows I’m rubbish at that,” Gregory smiled back to Molly, making sure she knew that they appreciated the gift that certainly fit for their little girl with the parentage she had. John’s gift was next, admittedly a little generic in that it was clothes and books, but they were all nice quality and it was clear that he was at least trying to still be a good friend to Gregory and his god-daughter. “It’s sweet,” His partner assured him, looking over to grab another box, this one from the officers at the yard. “I have no idea what they all got for her, they wouldn’t tell me, saying it was a surprise for everyone…” It was a rather large box, big enough that it wouldn’t fit on his lap, so Gregory had sat it in front of them, Mycroft setting Elise down so she could stand and get her hands on the paper. All of them eyed the gift, wondering what they all could have possibly got her. Mycroft was caught between laughter and confusion, not sure exactly how to feel, thinking the gift strange but cute. 

          “I think this is a jest towards you my moon,” Mycroft gave him a playful smile as he looked to the man, everyone else laughing to themselves as well. “Though, I can see that she will be a danger when she figures this out, scooting about the house.” They toy was a small buggy that she could sit on, a mock panda with a police hat that she could wear as well. 

          “Alright, love.” Gregory chuckled, taking the box and swapping it for yet another. “This one’s from Daddy,” He announced, holding his hands out so Mycroft could pass her off. It was a playhouse for Elise to have in the garden, the little girl already loving to spend any time she could outside, even if it meant bathing her in sunblock every time with her shared pale skin. “You can play house inside and not have to worry about the sun, Elise. We can keep your outside toys in it too so we know they are safe and sound,” Elise looked up to him with a frown, obviously wondering how she was supposed to play with something that was in a flat box and only had a small picture of a house on the outside. “I’ll build it for you, love. Don’t worry.”

          “I’m glad you intend to put it together love,” Mycroft chuckled, looking to him as they set the box to the side. “Now it’s my turn,” With a sly grin, he stood and moved over to the last large box, pulling out a small clothing bag first before he allowed her near it. “This is very special my dear, it belonged to your uncle Sherlock when he was your age.” Slowly pulling on the zipper, he took out the garment, Sherlock’s tunic from when he was just a boy. “He would want you to have this my light.” It might not have meant much to her, but to see her in it was something that he would hold dear. “It also goes along with this,” Moving to the side, he lead her to the box as she started to tear at the paper, revealing a small wooden chariot that they could pull her in, a replica he had made to look like the one Gregory had once ridden. “We can either attach it to a bike or pull it ourselves,” Looking to Gregory with a smile, he loved how much all of their gifts reflected the person who gave them, and all the hopes they had for her and her future. 

          “Oh, almost forgot my gift!” Mrs. Hudson spoke up as everyone watched, Gregory moving to help pull the tunic over Elise’s clothes and smiling at how it fit her, just a little large, but with enough room for her to grow before they would have to retire it once more. “Right, okay! Back now!” The woman announced a bit too loud as she came back out from the house, holding a bag as she sat down and smiled over to the little girl who was watching her curiously from his lap. “Talking about Sherlock reminded me of it. Going through his things, poor man, I came across these. I think they were meant for Miles, but they’ll work for her too,” She said with a nod, pulling out a collection of CD’s that were labeled different children’s sons as well as the accompanying written music. “He always played so pretty, so you can play it for her!”  

          “Gregory my dearest,” Mycroft stuttered, looking up to his husband, his heart thundering in his chest as he handed a CD off, the man taking it and knowing exactly what he needed. 

          “Yeah, let me get a radio.” 

          “Spero aliquando et vos ludere eum audire.”  _ Someday I hope you will hear him play for you.  _ It didn’t take long for Gregory to return with a radio, playing the music and joining his side, taking his hand. Miles instantly recognised the music, walking over to them all. 

          “That’s Uncle Sherlock! He used to show me how to play. He was really fun and knew a lot of things about a lot of stuff,” 

          “That he did,” A sad smile tugged at the corners of his lips as Miles’ walked over and talked to Elise, explaining that he knew who it was and how he used to be. It was lucky that Elise didn’t know enough to be sad like the rest of them felt right now, remembering Sherlock, and knowing that if he were here, he would dote on her hand and foot, all the while keeping his typical attitude. Even though the majority of them knew that Sherlock wasn’t really gone, the loss of contact caused them all to feel a tad upset about the memories they were sharing of the man, especially because it had been almost two years since he had left.

          “He loves you very much Miles, you know that, and always will, and Elise even though he didn’t have a chance to meet you,” Not yet, and part of him was worried that he never would if they never heard from him again, “But he would have loved you with all his heart.” Gregory cleared his throat, standing and offering a hug to Mrs. Hudson. 

          “It means a lot to all of us that you found those.” 

          “There’s a box of things I collected for John too, I think it might be best for you to look through them and give them to him when you think it’s right.” She said with a nod, Gregory squeezing her arm lightly before looking back at everyone else. 

          “Well, um, there’s still cake, if you want to take some. God know’s I’ll just end up eating it myself somewhere around two in the morning if you don’t.” Letting Elise down, he watched as she and Miles played with the toys, the two of them smiling and giggling together, his heart warm, but the music still played making him tear up. As everyone left, he stayed seated in his chair, listening to the violin, trying to hold on to the hope that his brother was alright. They hadn’t talked about it a lot, practically not at all since the letters had stopped coming, Mycroft not wanting to address it out of fear. He knew that just ignoring it wouldn’t make it any less true, but he felt like he could still hold out that his brother was out there if he didn’t accept that the letters had stopped because he was gone. When Gregory placed a hand on his shoulder, he looked up, his chest tight as he tried not to start crying, not wanting to get that going again, his throat thick as he swallowed. “It’ll be alright, meum sol. It has to be, yeah? Look at her, it has to work out in the end.” A couple times he started to speak but stopped, not sure what he could say that wouldn’t start him on this roller coaster again. “I know, but he’s stubborn, and he’ll find a way. If nothing else just to mock you for getting emotional over him.” Thankfully Gregory knew what he wanted to say, even if he couldn’t. He also knew that he needed a few more minutes listening to the music, left alone with his thoughts as his partner said goodbye to everyone and packed the gifts up inside. When the man returned, he asked him to come back inside, Mycroft closing his eyes before letting out a sigh and standing. “Did my little girl have fun today?” Elise nodded her head before laying it down on Gregory’s shoulder, clearly tired and ready to nap. Closing the doors, he sat down in the living room while his partner put her down, not saying a word and getting lost in his own thoughts. He wasn’t sure how long the man had taken to put her down, but it wasn’t until he felt the cushions sink beside him that he realised Gregory had returned. 

          “It’s been two years, Gregory. Two years and he’s not home. A whole year of our daughter's life is gone, that he’s missed. I know he would have the rest of eternity to spend with her, but it’s not the same as the first years of her life when she changes so much.”  

          “I know My, I do. I think about him all the time at work, on cases, when I watch Elise run around and explore everything, but…” Gregory paused, Mycroft looking to him expectantly. “I know we’ve lost contact with Sherlock, but there might still be a way to track him. I know it’s crazy, but hear me out. Just like how Sherlock used to work with the homeless network, sometimes the answer is right in front of us. There’s still groups out there who believe that Sherlock is alive, and they’ve been scouring the newspapers and the internet for anything they can use to prove it. Anderson, my old forensics, he felt really guilty after Sherlock jumped and ended up joining one of these groups, and he called me up a week or so ago to share their theories. He’s still solving ridiculous cases as he goes around, and they’re still being published. I know it’s always anonymous, he’s not using his name, but from where we’ve gotten his letters, they’re actually not too far off. There are cases still being published, we just have to track him through there. Maybe he feels that he’s being followed and that’s why he hasn’t reached out, but he’s still working. We can try.” The idea seemed far fetched, and a lot more like a bunch of obsessed loonies who were looking for an explanation where there wasn’t one. 

          “Anderson is just wracked with guilt, nothing more. Those sorts of people will see connections where none exist. The idea of being able to track my brother by randomly solved cases around the world seems far too easy, far too obvious and far too unlikely.” Mycroft sighed, shaking his head and standing so he could look out the window, a frown creasing his brow. “I can already tell you believe this though, so I will not stop you from tracing these if you wish, but I do not believe they will lead us anywhere. My team would have picked up on such things a long time ago if they were connected to my brother and nothing has been brought to my attention before.” It was normal for those seeping with guilt to try and relieve the blame they felt by any means necessary, even if that meant coming up with far fetched stories and theories. “I’m sorry my moon. I need some time alone. I am going to head to the Diogenes. I will be back later tonight.”

          “My…” He turned on his heel, stopping to place a quick kiss on his partner’s cheek before gathering his jacket and heading out, wanting some silence and time to think things through.  

*****

          Greg felt bad for exploiting Anderson’s work, always telling him that he was wrong before taking it back to Mycroft and Anthea to report what he’d found, but it did certainly make his life a bit easier. Mycroft still had his doubts which Greg didn’t blame him for, but Anthea had to admit that the theories did hold some water and was willing to look into them. The two of them together were starting to break the politician down, and had allowed them to use his connections to crosscheck the cases to see if they could pinpoint Sherlock’s whereabouts. Knowing it was for a good cause, though, didn’t always make it easier to listen to Anderson’s theories and prattling on about the cases, some of them simply inane from the start. 

          “A breakaway sect of Buddhist warrior monks infiltrated by a blonde drug smuggler?! That never really happened!” Greg argued, glaring across the corner high top he and Anderson were sharing at a pub. Anderson looked older now, almost homeless and uncomfortably like he was trying to dress like John in the jumper he was currently wearing, shaking his head as he defended himself. 

          “A blonde drug smuggler who was exposed by an abbot with unusual powers of observation and deduction!”

          “A blonde woman hiding amongst bald monks? That wouldn’t exactly take Sherlock Holmes!” Greg pointed out, rolling his eyes in growing frustration. Some of the cases that he’d brought up certainly sounded like Sherlock, but this one did not.

          “Well, perhaps it did.” Anderson stated again, starting to sound more like a stubborn child than his former forensics.

          “He’s dead.” He stated, sighing at the hurt look that immediately flashed across the other’s face. He hated that lie, but after two years it dangerously felt like the truth. Only now they were fighting to prove it wrong once more. “I’m sorry. I wish he wasn’t, but he really is dead and gone.”

_           “ _ Well, how d’you explain this?” Anderson started up again after a pause, pulling the map over and pointing at another spot that he had marked off. “Sighting number two: Incident at New Delhi.” He announced before jumping into the explanation of the case, Greg still too shocked at the fact that he’d started naming the cases not unlike John too. Maybe Mycroft was right, maybe they were all just a bunch of loons trying to chase after what they couldn’t have. Then again, Sherlock had always used the homeless network, and that was all Greg had to do to remind himself of before forcing himself to pay attention once more. 

_           “ _ Clever man, Inspector Prakesh.” Greg dragged, trying not to sound too impressed even though it was certainly more a Sherlockian solution than what most people would have thought of, measuring how long it would take for a flake to melt into an ice cream to prove who their suspect was.

          “Oh, for-” Anderson snapped, angry that he was being blown off on something so impressive. “What police inspector could have made that deduction?”

          “Oh, thank you.” Greg snapped back sarcastically, almost glad as his pride stepped up and took control for the moment. It was easier than having to pretend like he wasn’t interested in hearing out his crazy ideas.

          “You remember how Sherlock never took the credit when he solved all of  _ your _ cases?”

          “He  _ didn’t _ solve all of my cases!” Greg continued to argue, the same frustration that he’d felt when he was on his forced suspension when everything had started coming back stronger than ever. He had never realised how much he had shoved all that aside until now, having had Elise to distract him from all that when he was at home, and his work to distract him when he wasn’t. “The Klein Brothers, the Tower House thing, the Kensington Ripper – I solved all those myself!” Greg continued to argue over Anderson as he spoke about how it was so obvious that Sherlock was still out there.

          “Well, you got Tower House wrong.” Anderson pointed out, the D.C.I. glaring back at the other.

          “No I didn’t!”

          “Yep, you did.” Anderson stated as he moved the map, Greg muttering under his breath as he continued on. “Okay, sighting number three . The Mysterious Juror.” Greg couldn’t help himself as he dropped his head to the table, wanting to strangle Anderson for how stupid he sounded, and how hypocritical he was being for always snipping at making fun of John only to literally become him now. He’d even been let go from the Met, too, spending more time on these theories than the cases he was supposed to be working, the other D.I’s he had been assigned to not nearly as forgiving as Greg would have been even on a bad day.

_           “ _ It had to be him! There’s no-one else it can be! Do you not see?” Anderson half pleaded as he finished his case, Greg not having really been paying much attention this time as he told the story of how Sherlock supposedly flipped a murder case from not guilty to guilty. 

          “I see that you lost a good job fantasising about a dead man coming back to life, and I know why you want that to happen. But it’s never going to.” Greg sighed, reaching out for his pint to finish it. “I’m going to go and see an old friend.” He said as he stood and started to gather this things, not really wanting to mention it was John in case he happened to start Anderson on another tirade. “You take care, okay?” He offered, pausing for a moment as he tried to think of what else to say, seeing how put out Anderson looked at being ignored. “I’ll put a word in, see if they won’t review your case.” Greg added, knowing that he was still a good at forensics even if he could be a bit of a bastard sometimes. It did seem to have toned down some after he wasn’t working beside Donovan, which was certainly a blessing in itself. 

          “Just look at the map, though.” Anderson sighed, gesturing towards the different marks as Greg traced over it as well, “He’s getting closer. It’s like he’s coming back.” He sounded hopeful, and the D.C.I. had to bite his tongue to keep from agreeing before he simply gave a small nod goodbye and seeing himself out.

_ ***** _

          It had been out of the blue, the message he had received from Greg, asking if he was free. He had just returned home from the clinic, and sure, he had company coming in an hour, but the man had reassured him that it wasn’t going to take very long, he just had a few things to drop off to him and wanted to stop in and see how he was doing. They had talked on occasion, nothing like before, but at least since the incident with Mycroft, Greg hadn’t abandoned him completely, always popping up every so often to check on him, or just send him a few pictures of Elise, wanting to keep him in their lives, but only so much as John wanted to do so as well. When the knock came at the door, he paused for a moment, setting the tea down on the small end table, walking to the front and taking a deep breath before answering the door. 

          “Hey,” A small smile played across his lips, looking to the silver haired inspector, a white box in his hands, which the man now held out for him. “Ta,” Taking it, John stepped aside, allowing the other in and shutting the door behind him, walking into the living room and setting the box down on top of the filing cabinet. “It’s good to see you, Greg.” Turning to face the other, he saw the apprehension in the other’s face, wondering what it could be that was so important in that box that he had to have it right then. 

          “And you.” 

          “Have a seat.” John offered, Greg taking the armchair while he moved to sit on the sofa across from him, clasping his hands in his lap. 

          “So, how’ve you been?” Greg started after a pause. He always hated small talk, rather get to the point instead of beating around the bush as they were now.

          “Er, yeah, good. Yeah. much better.” Nodding, he looked back at the white box, pointing to it and asking the question himself. “Er, so what’s in the…?” 

          “Oh, that, yeah. That’s… that’s some stuff from my office, some stuff of Sherlock’s actually. I probably should have thrown it out, but I didn’t know if…” John narrowed his eyes for a moment, able to tell that the man is lying, but it wasn’t that Greg was trying to hide something, rather that this stuff was most likely things left over in the flat he had once shared with the detective. 

          “No, fine, yeah.” John waved off, watching as Greg stood and went to the box, lifting the lid off of it and taking what looked like a CD out of it. 

          “Yeah, there’s-there’s something here. Um, wasn’t sure whether I should have kept it in. You remember the video message he made for your birthday?” How could he have forgotten? He still had the video, not that he had watched it, but he still held onto it, for sentiment sake. “Oh, I had to practically threaten him. This is the uncut version, it’s quite funny.” 

          “Oh, right.” Giving the man a small smile John reached up to take the DVD, feeling a bit apprehensive about the whole thing.

          “Maybe I shouldn’t have brought it.” 

          “Don’t worry. It’s okay. Probably won’t even watch it.” The look on Greg’s face read pity, something he had grown accustomed to since Sherlock’s death, something that everyone seemed to give him. It used to make him angry, that people would pity him, but now he had learned to brush it off. He had moved on. Setting the DVD down on the table, John looked over to his friend where he found himself standing awkwardly in his living room. 

          “So how are you? Really? I know we haven’t spoken in a while,” 

          “Good, yeah. Doing good.” John glanced up to the clock on the wall, knowing that he still had a half an hour before he had plans, deciding to not shoo Greg out right away and to humour the man for a little bit, just to make him feel better if anything. “Things are going great. Clinics good, this flat is nice, and uh, well I think I’m going to ask Mary to marry me.” He hadn’t said it allowed to anyone, though he had already gone out and bought a ring, and voicing it now made it seem even more real. John looked to Greg, seeing the man’s eyes grow wide as he looked back at him. 

          “Wow, that’s… that’s brilliant mate, congrats. Glad to hear things are going so well,” John knew that Greg was being sincere, that he had been very adamant about the idea that even though him and Sherlock were supposed mates that maybe they didn’t have to be together each lifetime. Now that Sherlock was gone, it was best he did something for himself, found someone. 

          “Thanks. She’s actually coming over in a bit, if you’d like to stay and meet her?” 

          “Oh, I couldn’t, I have to get back to work. I was just on this side of town meeting at a pub with an old colleague, and thought I would drop this off, but hey! We will have to go out for a pint sometime soon and celebrate. Congrats mate,” Part of him was relieved that Greg wasn’t going to stay and meet Mary, but the other part of him doubted that the man actually had to be somewhere and just felt uncomfortable with the idea of meeting someone he was with that wasn’t Sherlock. 

          “Right, yeah. Maybe another time.” Giving the man a small smile, he walked him out the door, the two of them saying their goodbyes before John shut the door and returned to the living room, that DVD starring him down. No, he was far too sober to deal with something like that right now. Grabbing a bottle of whisky and a tumblr, he poured himself a glass before putting the bottle away and sitting in down, his eyes trained on that DVD. He wasn’t going to watch it, why would he? He had already seen the edited version, still had it on his computer in fact, and he hadn’t watched that one in the past two years… so why did he have the strongest urge to watch this one? After a few moments, he picked it up, sighing as he walked across the room and placed it into the player. 

          “What that supposed to happen - the light going down? Yeah, okay. Oh er, mmm. So what do I, what do I, what do you want me to do at the end? Shall I um…? Smile and wink. I do that sometimes. I’ve no idea why. People seem to like it - humanises me.” John couldn’t help the strained chuckle that bubbled in his chest, his throat feeling tight as he saw the man on screen, that face and voice he hadn’t seen or heard since… well since he got that dreadful call and watched the bastard jump. “Why am I doing this, again?” 

          “You’re going to miss the dinner.” 

          “Of course I’m going to miss dinner. There’ll be people. How can John be having a birthday dinner? All his friends hate him.” Smug bastard. He wanted to be angry with him for that comment, but there was a hint of pain in his chest, of sadness as he looked to the idiot detective. “You only have to look at their faces. I wrote an essay on suppressed hatred in close proximity based entirely on his friends.” A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he listened to the man. “On reflection, it probably wasn’t a very good choice of gift.” No shit, Sherlock. The man could be a right git sometimes. “What was my excuse again?” 

          “You said you had a thing.” 

          “Ah, right, yes! That’s right. A thing.” 

          “You might want to elaborate.” 

          “No, no, no. Only lies have detail.” Closing his eyes, John shook his head, having known that whole time that Sherlock had been lying, but he hadn’t felt like fighting the man on it.  “Right, I just… I need a moment to, um, figure out what I’m going to do.” 

          “I can tell you what you can do,” John muttered, taking a drink from his glass as he continued to watch. “You can stop being dead.” 

          “Okay.” Startled, John looked to the man’s face with wide eyes, as if he had been responding directly to him. No, that was just a coincidence, a rather well time, freaky coincidence. Right. “Okay I’m ready now. Hello John. I’m sorry I’m not there at the moment. I’m very busy. However, many happy returns. Oh, and don’t worry. I’m going to be with you again very soon.” Just then, the doorbell rang, John shaking his head as his heart thundered in his chest. No, that was just Mary at the door, not Sherlock, and all of this was messing with him. He knew he shouldn’t have watched the film. Pausing it, he quickly stood, heading for the door, his hand hesitating at the handle, his mind playing tricks on him. What if Sherlock was on the other side of this door? What if he was back? Shaking his head, he chastised himself for being so ridiculous, taking a deep breath again before pulling it open, seeing Mary smiling on the other side. Right, not Sherlock. Of course not.  


	52. LI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming to you early! Because we've delayed and pushed back so many times, instead of postponing this one until Monday, we got it done ahead of schedule for you lovely folks while I'm away this weekend!

          It had taken them two weeks to pinpoint where his brother would be next, or what they hoped was his brother, and not just the delusions of a raving forensics worker who was wracked with guilt. Anthea had assured him that everything would go as planned, that even if it wasn’t Sherlock, that he would get in and out without anyone noting who he was, that the plan was practically foolproof. Sighing, he walked into the interrogation room, wearing a thick coat with a fur hat, hoping to hide himself as much as he could in his disguise, not needing anyone to see his face and throw the whole mission. The prisoner was chained to the walls, his arms holding him up as he hung there limp, his long hair falling all around his face, hiding him from Mycroft’s line of sight. If this was his brother, his chest ached as he watched the torturer strike him over and over again, shouting at him demanding answers. Taking a seat, he casually put his feet up on the small table, trying to appear relaxed. It had been a long time since he had gone on a mission himself, always leaving the leg work to his teams, but this was personal, this was sensitive, and this was not something he could leave to someone else. 

          “You broke in here for a reason!” Serbian had been rather easy to pick up on, and didn’t take him any time at all to put it together so he could smuggle his way into the serbian ranks. Mycroft’s chest tightened as he watched the torturer pick up a large metal pipe, walking back towards the prisoner. He wanted to intervene, to stop this, but he knew any slip would risk both of their lives, and the mission, especially if this wasn’t Sherlock. “Just tell us why and you can sleep. Remember sleep?” Every bone in his body screamed for him to intervene when he watched the man raise the pipe over his shoulders, ready to strike, Mycroft almost jumping from his seat when the prisoner whispered, the man stopping and lowering the pipe, leaning forward. “What?” Furrowing his brow, he watched as the prisoner whispered something yet again, something he didn’t quite catch. Apparently the torturer didn’t either as he grabbed the man’s head back by the hair, leaning in closer so he could hear him better. 

          “Well? What did he say?” The language sounded strange on his tongue, something he still hadn’t gotten completely used to, but at least it had fooled the others. It felt like centuries before the man let go and stood up, staring him down with a confused expression. 

          “He said that I used to work in the navy, where I had an unhappy love affair.” 

          “What?” Something very familiar to hope clutched at his chest as he heard those words, knowing that it was exactly like his brother to deduce his torturer, throwing him off, and using it against him. Maybe Anderson had been right, and he was starting to believe that they had found him, that this was Sherlock. There were more whispers from the prisoner, Mycroft sitting forward to try and listen but still not hearing what the man was saying. 

          “That the electricity isn’t working in my bathroom; and that my wife is sleeping with our next door neighbour!” The man reached down and pulled the prisoner up by the hair again, more whispers following. “And? The coffin maker! And? And? If I go home now, I’ll catch them at it! I knew it! I knew there was something going on!” Leave it to his brother to find the one thing the torturer couldn’t resist, running out to try and catch his cheating wife, leaving the two of them alone. Once Mycroft was sure the man was gone and not returning, he stood, taking his feet off the table and walking over towards the man he now knew was his brother. 

          “So, my friend. Now it’s just you and me.” He started in Serbian, wanting to tease his brother just a little longer for putting them all through such torture the past year. “You have no idea the trouble it took to find you.” Reaching out, he grabbed his brother’s hair, lifting his head and leaning close to his ear, switching back to English. “Now listen to me. There’s an underground terrorist network active in London, and a massive attack is imminent. Sorry, but the holiday is over, brother dear. Back to Baker Street, Sherlock Holmes.” Getting them both out of here was the easy part, now that he had found his brother, but what he looked forward to most, was being home, with his family, and back to his daughter after having been away for two weeks now. 

*****

          It was a relief, having his face shaven and his hair cut, being back in clean clothes and not skulking about the streets, tracking down one sniper after the next. 

          “You have been busy, haven’t you? Quite the busy little bee.” Rolling his eyes, Sherlock sighed as he tossed the paper he had been reading onto a nearby trolley, letting the barber finish his job. 

          “Moriarty’s network - took me two years to dismantle it.” 

          “And you’re confident you have?” All except one, one last sniper that he couldn’t find, that had vanished into thin air, but no amount of staying away from home was going to make them appear, not after two years of radio silence from them. 

          “The Serbian side was the last piece of the puzzle.” 

          “Yes. You got yourself in deep there… with Baron Maupertuis. Quite a scheme.” 

          “Colossal.” That was an understatement, and to be honest he had never expected his brother to come and find him there, to be the other soldier in that interrogation room. That was, until he had heard him speak Serbian, and there was no mistaking that familiar voice, not when he’d had to listen to it for the last two thousand years. 

          “Anyway, you’re safe now. A small ‘thank you’ wouldn’t go amiss.” 

          “What for?” Of course his brother would think that he had rescued him, that he had saved the day, that he was the reason he was now back in London. Typical Mycroft. 

          “For wading in.” Raising his hand to the barber to have him stop, Sherlock sat up slowly, the pain in his back aching, knowing that it had only been a couple days but the broken ribs still needed a few more to set. “In case you’d forgotten, fieldwork is not my natural milieu.” How could anyone forget that, especially when his brother had put on so much weight. Domestic life was starting to show. 

          “Wading in? You sat there and watched me being beaten to a pulp!” 

          “I got you out.” Oh no, that was not how this was going to go, Mycroft was not going to take the credit for this one. 

          “No - I got me out. Why didn’t you intervene sooner?” 

          “Well, I couldn’t risk giving myself away, could I? It would have ruined everything.” That would be his excuse. No, the real reason was that his brother didn’t know that it was him in that room, not until he was already waist deep into it, and had no other option but to wait it out. The smug bastard was just trying to use that as an excuse. 

          “You were enjoying it.” 

          “Nonsense.” 

          “Definitely enjoying it.”

          “Listen. Do you have any idea what it was like, Sherlock, going undercover, smuggling my way into their ranks like that? The noise; the people.” Boo hoo. He didn’t feel one ounce of sympathy for his brother, not after he had spent two years undercover, working his way around the globe, breaking down the world's worst criminal network that had ever been. Sitting back and groaning, he waved for the baber to continue, not wishing to humour his brother on that subject. 

          “I didn’t know you spoke Serbian.” 

          “I didn’t, but the language has a Slavic root, frequent Turkish and German loan words. Took me a couple of hours.” Letting out a huff, Sherlock smirked, looking over to his brother. 

          “Hmmm - you’re slipping.” 

          “Two thousand years will do that to you brother mine. Comes to us all.” Just then the door opened and his assistant walked in, Anthea having been out with Miles and Ryan, so her double working in her stead today, holding up a dark suit and a white shirt. It didn’t take him long to clean himself up, dry his hair and get dressed, Mycroft waiting patiently. “I need you to give this matter your full attention, Sherlock. Is that quite clear?” 

          “What do you think of this shirt?” 

          “Sherlock!” Rolling his eyes, he turned to face his brother as he did up the cuffs on the shirt, looking to Mycroft with a frown. 

          “I will find your underground terror cell, Mycroft. Just put me back in London. I need to get to know the place again, breathe it in, feel every quiver of its beating heart.” 

          “One of our men died getting this information. All the chatter, all the traffic, concurs there’s going to be a terror strike on London - a big one.” Boring. He had been dealing with worse for the past two years, and these criminals seemed completely incompetent compared to Moriarty’s network. 

          “And what about John Watson?” Sherlock heard the exasperated sigh that the assistant gave his brother, Mycroft frowning as he looked to him in confusion. As if that wouldn’t be his first concern upon return, the state of John, his partner.

          “John?” 

          “Have you seen him?” 

          “Oh, yes, we meet up every Friday for fish and chips!” Mycroft knew what he meant, he had asked his brother to watch after him, to make sure no harm came to him while he was gone. After a few moments the assistant handed him a file, inside a couple of black and white photos of John with a horrible mustache, his features scrunching as he looked to them. “I’ve kept a weather eye on him, of course. You haven’t been in touch at all, to prepare him?” 

          “No.” It would have been too risky, especially towards the end there, to get in touch and let John know that he hadn’t been dead the past two years. “Well, we’ll have to get rid of that.” 

          “We?” 

          “He looks ancient. I can’t be seen to be wandering around with an old man.” Dropping the file on the desk, Sherlock took another look in the mirror, hardly recognising himself after all these years of being on the run. “I think I’ll surprise John. He’ll be delighted!” 

          “You think so?” 

          “I’ll pop into Baker Street. Who knows - jump out of a cake.” 

          “Baker Street? He isn’t there anymore.” Frowning, he looked to his brother with concern, now wondering if something had happened to the flat, or if Mrs. Hudson was no longer around. He hadn’t been informed of any changes. “Why would he be? It’s been two years. He’s got on with his life.” 

          “What life? I’ve been away.” There was a sarcastic look to his brother’s face, one that told him to stop being an idiot, to which he scowled back, ready to be out of his brother’s office. “Where’s he going to be tonight?” 

          “How would I know?” Now Mycroft was just trying to be annoying, to get on his nerves. 

          “You always know.” 

          “He has a dinner reservation in the Marylebone Road. Nice little spot. They have a few bottles of the 2000 Saint-Emilion… though I prefer the 2001.” As he suspected, his brother did know, even knew what type of wine they were serving at the damned restaurant. 

          “I think maybe I’ll just drop by.” Couldn’t hurt. He couldn’t imagine who he would have dinner reservations with, as there weren’t too many people that John talked to. Maybe James Sholto, but that couldn’t be it as the man was never seen in public since the accident, and lived well over an hour away. 

          “You know, it is just possible that you won’t be welcome.” 

          “No it isn’t. Now, where is it?” 

          “Where’s what?” Letting out a small groan of frustration, he watched as the assistant disappeared, hopefully to retrieve his coat and scarf, the exact items of clothing that he never went anywhere without. His brother knew better. 

          “You know what.” When she returned a smile crept across his face, Sherlock sliding his arms into the sleeves as she helped lift it onto his shoulders, the collar up just as he always prefered it. 

          “Welcome back Mr. Holmes.” 

*****

          John had tried to plan out this night the best he could, making sure everything was set up just right and that his nerves wouldn’t fail him like they tended to do whenever he tried to handle anything that involved emotions. He hadn’t expected to fall for Mary the way he did, the woman nearly a saint in her patience as she listened to his stories about Sherlock and James, even accompanying him to Sherlock’s grave now and again. He had lost the two men that were the most important to him, and while he didn’t feel the same love towards Mary, he assumed that was because she wasn’t the same as them. She made him happy and he did love her, and a slow building fear of losing her like he had everyone else led him into ring shopping and a restaurant he could only just afford, wanting to do this right if he was going to do it at all. 

          Staring blankly at the wine menu in front of him as he waited for Mary to come back down from the restroom, John clenched his jaw in frustration both in how he had no idea of just what he was looking at and the waiter that magically appeared at his side asking if he needed anything in a rather horrible French accent but he didn’t dare look up in case it was real and just very unfortunate. 

          “Hi, yeah. I’m looking for a bottle of champagne. A good one.” He wanted to do this right, but that didn’t mean he could learn what any of the descriptions of wines meant overnight. 

          “Mmm! Well, these are all excellent vintages.”

          “Er, it’s not really my area. What do you suggest?” John shrugged, vintages and dates and locations meaning nothing to him except for that they all sounded equally fancy. 

          “Well, you cannot possibly go wrong, but, erm, if you’d like my personal recommendation this last one on the list is a favourite of mine. It is, you might in fact say, like a face from ze past.” The waiter explained rather flamboyantly, though John simply stared down at the menu humming softly in agreement as he reached out and finished off the rest of the wine that he’d ordered with his meal. He knew he shouldn’t get drunk if he was going to propose, but a little bit of liquid courage certainly helped.

          “Great. I’ll have that one, please.” He nodded, grimacing slightly at the taste of having swallowed so much of his wine at once without any food or anything else to counter the taste. 

          “It is familiar, but, er, with the quality of surprise!”

          “Well, er, surprise me.” John stated, starting to get annoyed with the waiter for spending so much time trying to chat with him and wanting to be left alone, handing off the wine menu as he glanced back towards the stairs wondering how much time he had before Mary showed up again.

          “Certainly endeavouring to, sir.” The man sounded annoyed for being dismissed so, but John found that he didn’t care, pulling out the ring box once he had left. He wanted to do this, wanted to get married, have his own little family, live his life as he chose and not how his stupid fate was laid out that wasn’t his, though at least the worst of the nightmares of death and carnage from the past had seemed to dwindle just to little memories of a day here or there, sometimes with Sherlock, sometimes with families that he didn’t know during lives he could only assume Sherlock had abandoned him as he had now. Sighing a nervous breath trying to get those thoughts out of his head on a night that was supposed to just be focused on himself and Mary, John fidgeted with the box in front of him until he felt the woman’s hand on his shoulder, scrambling to hide it back into his pocket before she could see it.

          “Sorry that took so long.” She said gently, sitting in her chair and smiling back at him, John trying to steady his nerves that had only spiked up once more now that she was sitting in front of him. “You okay?”

          “Yeah, yeah. Me? Fine. I am fine.” John stuttered, the two of them trying to laugh off his nervousness as he watched the woman in front of him, having always been so kind and smart, reminding himself once again that this was where his heart laid now, and really… that wasn’t so bad, was it?

          “Now then, what did you want to ask me?” Mary prompted, John finding himself fidgeting once more and scrambling to find an answer.

          “More wine?” He tried to stall though she wouldn’t have it, opting for water instead. “Right.” John muttered before he simply decided to go all for it. “Er, so... Mary. Listen, I know it hasn’t been long... I mean, I know we haven’t known each other for a long time…” John knew he was cocking this all up something horrible, yet Mary still urged him forward gently, no doubt knowing exactly where this was going now, but at least she was kind enough to let him struggle through it without interrupting. 

          “Go on,”

          “Yes, I will. As you know, these last couple of years haven’t been easy for me, and meeting you… Yeah, meeting you has been the best thing that could have possibly happened.”

          “I agree.” Mary said with a short nod, catching John off guard before smiling back at him. “I agree I’m the best thing that could have happened to you.” 

          John couldn’t help himself in the shock of it all and found himself laughing, Mary pulling a face and apologising for the moment, but that was just it, wasn’t it? She was the one person who was still around that could make him laugh at himself.

          “Well, no. That’s, um,” He tried again, trying to remember where he had been before looking back up at her. “So if you’ll have me, Mary, could you see your way, um... if you could see your way to-” John had very nearly found the right words when that damned waiter appeared again, Mary hiding behind her hand as she started giggling, the two of them trying to salvage the moment around their oblivious waiter.

          “Sir, I think you’ll find this vintage exceptionally to your liking. It ’as all the qualities of the old, with some of the colour of the new.”

          “No, sorry, not now, please.” He couldn’t believe this was happening, trying to keep his calm as he stared back at Mary, doing his best not to tell off the waiter even though she at least found this whole thing to be somewhat amusing. Certainly a story to tell later.

          “Like a gaze from a crowd of strangers, suddenly one is aware of staring into ze face of an old friend.” This was completely out of hand, and if the waiter didn’t understand that the two of them were having a moment, John was going to make it very clear by spelling it out for him.

          “No, look, seriously, could you just-” 

          John felt as if he had been hit in the chest by a ton of bricks as he looked up to recognise Sherlock’s face, the same one he had seen so many times before, in this life, in Italy, in France, in Rome as a little boy and again once he was older, always so proud and hopeful whenever he looked to John as he was now, somehow looking excited to finally have John back like nothing had happened. Like there hadn’t been years, lives, that John had lived always looking for something more than what he had but not realising it was because Sherlock had abandoned him, leaving him on his own to make due when he could have been happy, and when he finally had that happiness again, that supposed happiness that Greg had told him about with his mate in this life, he had died, convincing him that he would be no different than Moriarty without anyone there to be with him, but now he was back, that same look in his eyes as when they had met the second time, and every time after, never realising until now that it was always the same, always that excited look that few could understand but John was always able to read, like a magnet drawing them together and making his heart race knowing something was about to happen… John was aware that Sherlock was talking about something about tuxedos, but none of it was making sense, his head swirling too much as he stood from his chair, glancing back at Mary, too angry and hurt and confused now to know what to do. Every time John looked back at Sherlock it was as if it was another life, meeting the man when he had snuck down into the medical quarters of the Colosseum to see what interesting injuries there had been from the last battle, meeting randomly in a market searching for the same style of dagger, physically running into each other chasing after the same thief. Finally the memories settled, reminding him of just how long it had been since that last time they had been together until this life, when they had met and he had been  _ happy _ , only to lose it all again, did Sherlock start to catch up with what was happening around him. 

          “Well, short version: Not Dead.” Sherlock explained with a faint laugh, which of course he would he would think it was all a bit amusing until he looked back at John, realising that maybe this had been a bit of a mistake with the building inferno of rage that felt as though it was going to consume him from the inside out.

          “Bit mean, springing it on you like that, I know. Could have given you a heart attack, probably still will. But in my defence, it was very funny.” Sherlock tried to laugh, though it fell flat between them as Mary stared back, her eyes going wide with recognition. “Okay, it’s not a great defence.”

          “Oh no! You’re…” She started, almost looking angry for a second before going back to the same shock that John knew he showed a well.

          “Oh yes.”

          “Oh, my God.”

          “Not quite.”

          “You died. You jumped off a roof.” Yes, thank you for that reminder, John thought to himself as he clinched his hand into a tight fist, sure that his nails would probably bruise the skin there if they didn’t break it.

          “No.”

          “You’re dead!”

          “No. I’m quite sure. I checked. Excuse me,” Sherlock quickly took a napkin and dipped it into Mary’s water to wash off the stupid moustache he had drawn on as a ‘disguise’. “Does, er, does yours rub off, too?” He asked as he looked over to John, his face falling as he realised just how off he had been in his master plan.

          “Oh my God, oh my God. Do you have any idea what you’ve done to him?” Mary tried to defend John, though he simply wanted to yell at everyone to just shut up, to take Sherlock out into the back alley and strangle him or kiss him, his mind flickering before deciding solidly on strangling him. If immortality really did lend them to having a faster rate of healing, then that just meant John had more time to take his frustration out on the bastard.

          “Okay, John, I’m suddenly realising I probably owe you some sort of an apology.” Sherlock said, actually starting to sound sincere this time, though John couldn’t do much more than slam his fist down on the table, silencing everyone around them as even the other tables started looking over to figure out what was happening.

          “Two hundred years.” John whispered, realising it was closer to four hundred before shaking his head to clear it. “No, two years.” He repeated back, reminding himself that this was now and not then with a groan, planting his hands on the table frustrated with his thoughts rushing around in his head. “I thought… I thought you were dead. Now, you let me grieve, hmm? How could you do that?” John challenged, looking up at Sherlock who was at least honest enough to look apologetic about it all. “How?”

          “Wait, before you do anything that you might regret, one question. Just let me ask one question.” Sherlock interrupted, looking back at John before cracking a sarcastic smirk. “Are you really gonna keep that?!” Sherlock cracked, looking between John and Mary before John decided he’d had enough and lunged at the man’s throat, following him to the ground and keeping his hands tight around his neck, not caring about the others scrambling to get him off until finally they were pulled apart and everyone was loudly escorted out of the restaurant. 

*****

          The last thing he had expected was for John to be this angry, to attack him, or for him to have that ridiculous mustache. The woman was a bit of a surprise as well, and honestly, he was having a hard time reading her, getting odd bits and pieces, but nothing like he usually did. They had been kicked out of the restaurant, heading towards the nearest cafe, because they all needed some coffee, or something to keep them distracted while they took this new information in. Fingers steepled in front of him, and John and Mary across from him with cross looks on their faces, Sherlock took a few moments, trying to figure out how to explain himself. 

          “I calculated that there were thirteen possibilities once I’d invited Moriarty onto the roof. I wanted to avoid dying if at all possible. The first scenario involved hurling myself into a parked hospital van filled with washing bags. Impossible. The angle was too steep. Secondly, a system of Japanese wrestling..” He didn’t even get the chance to finish that thought before John was interrupting him, agner still dripping in his voice. 

          “You know, for a genius, you can be remarkably thick.” 

          “What?” 

          “I don’t care how you faked it, Sherlock. I want to know why.” Why? Wasn’t that obvious? Hadn’t they talked about it plenty of times before the actual jump had taken place? 

          “Because Moriarty had to be stopped.” That didn’t seem to be the answer that John was looking for, judging by the look on the man’s face. “Oh. Why as in… I see. Yes. Why. That’s a little more difficult to explain.” 

          “I’ve got all night.” 

          “Well, there were snipers trained on you, Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade. If I didn’t jump, you all would have been killed. I had to make it look convincing, had to make it believable, and if I survived, they would have killed you anyway. Afterwards, I had to stay dead. It was mostly Mycroft’s idea, to go and dismantle Moriarty’s network, because of course Richard had a ridiculous amount of men at his disposal that were all now under command of a man named Moran, but that’s another story.” John didn’t look amused by his story, or like it was making a difference. “I did it to save your life. I knew that I had to save you, to make sure that you were not killed. I couldn’t lose you John, not like that.” 

          “Lost me plenty of other times when you weren’t even trying.” John muttered, Sherlock’s brow furrowing in confusion. “So, it’s your brother’s plan?” 

          “He would have needed a confidant,” Mary pointed out, looking strangely unfazed by the whole thing for a moment before dropping her hands back down with a murmured apology. 

          “But he was the only one, right? The only one who knew?” 

          “Couple of others,” Sherlock spoke softly, knowing that the man wasn’t going to like that answer. “It was a very elaborate plan, it had to be. The next of the thirteen possibilities…” He was not going to get his explanation out, not if John kept interrupting him with questions that didn’t matter. 

          “Who else? Who else knew?” John growled, Sherlock stopping, not sure he should answer. “ _ Who? _ ” Sherlock winced at that harsh tone, but then something hit him, those words about abandoning him before, John was talking about his past lives. His eyes went wide as he realised the man must have gained back some of his memories, now looking between John and Mary.  

          “John, can we talk about this in private? I don’t think-” He was cut off again, John demanding to know who had been involved. “John, knowing who won’t make this any different, please, can we talk about this, just you and I?” There was so much he wanted to say to him, so much he could explain if the man actually knew about their past lives, and depending on the memories, it could make this ten times easier. The stare he was receiving told him that it wasn’t going to happen, though, that John was getting his answers then and now. “My brother, Molly, Lestrade, Anthea and a few people from my homeless network, but that’s it. Just those who needed to know to keep you safe. Keep all three of you safe.” He couldn’t tell John in front of Mary that Lestrade was immortal and that’s why he had been safe to know, but if the man just gave him a chance… “Please, I will explain everything, just… let’s go back to Baker Street to talk.” 

          “No, explain it to me now!” John snapped, the fire raging in his eyes. “So, just your brother, Molly Hooper, Greg Lestrade and hundred tramps.” 

          “No! Twenty-five at most!” Enough to have coverage, enough to keep John at bay, and enough to rid the streets of civilians and not raise suspicions about the streets being empty. That didn’t seem to soothe the man though, Sherlock’s eyes going wide as he watched John hurl himself across the table, those hands coming for his neck again. 

 

          It was the second time tonight they had been kicked out of a restaurant, and this was not going as smoothly as he had thought. John was keeping a fast pace as he walked down the street, Mary trailing behind in her heels, leaving him to keep up with the man. Luckily it gave them enough privacy that he might be able to get something out to him. 

          “John please, I did not know that you remembered anything, that you knew of our past together. I did this because even if I could have you again, and be happy with you, as you no longer remembered me, at least you would be safe. Greg was immortal, his life is less fragile. You on the other hand, I didn’t even know…” He trailed off, looking back over his shoulder to see Mary still quite a distance behind them. 

          “Right, like you care. It’s about you, it’s  _ always  _ about the bloody great Sherlock Holmes!” John snapped, shouting and throwing his hands in the air. “It started after that damned Baskerville case, but you didn’t care, you were on to your next game with Richard. The two of you were obsessed with each other! You abandoned me for three hundred years after I died protecting you, and you think that I’m really going to believe that this was all some selfless act? No! I’ve only ever been the bubbling idiot to you, you didn’t want to be slowed down having to deal with me anymore! You still think this is a game, that this is some grand adventure, and I was just supposed to be the damsel in distress waiting and pining for your return? Well guess what? I’ve gone five lives with you, what’s forever more!?” Those words hurt worse than the bruises and cuts he had received each time John had attacked him, and he really wished Mary weren’t following them so he could stop the man and tell him that wasn’t the case. 

          “John, I promise, that is not how it was. I’ve been dealing with Richard for centuries. I’m not sure how much you remember, but he has tried to kill you time and time again, and the last time you died, when you sacrificed yourself, I thought you’d be safer if I didn’t come for you, if he couldn’t find you. I care more about you than I do my own life, and was ready to die for you on that roof if I had to. Please, I know you’re hurt, and angry, and you have every right to be, but don’t say that I don’t care, that you don’t mean a thing to me. You are the only reason I have kept going. Ask Lestrade, ask my brother. They can both tell you what lengths I have gone to protect you.” Sherlock whispered, hoping that his words would reach the other, but realising he was losing John all over again. 

          “No, because they moved on with their happy little family life, just like everyone else did. Like it was no big deal, because apparently it wasn’t, but I was the only one not to know that. Why am I the only one who thinks that this is wrong - the only one reacting like a human being?! So you fake your death and you waltz in here large as bloody life, and I’m not supposed to have a problem with that? No, Sherlock Holmes thinks it’s a perfectly okay thing to do!” John yelled, his voice echoing off the streets causing a few passers to pause and looked over to see what was going on. “I’m done with this, William. With this ridiculous night, with this ridiculous game of yours, with everything. I’m  _ done.  _ Do you understand?” John hadn’t called him William in centuries, as it wasn’t even a name he used, one he didn’t tell anyone about. It was starting to click with him, all the pieces coming together, the memories, the talk about lives without him, and now calling him by his name… John didn’t just have  _ some  _ memories back, he had them all, he was here for good. That only made what the man said worse, saying he wanted nothing to do with him, that he was done. “I am done, with all of this.” His heart broke, everything inside him feeling hollow and empty, parts of him dying that he couldn’t save… all of it. Sherlock wilted as John backed him against the wall, only able to watch in horror, the tears starting to fall down his cheeks. He may have saved the love of his life, eliminated Richard and his network, and now John was here to stay, but he had lost him in the process. Watching John leave, he felt his heart leaving as well, his chest feeling empty and in pain, watching the man holding hands with that woman just adding salt to the wound. 

*****

          Greg chuckled as he watched Elise scoot herself around on her police panda in the half of the family room that had become her play area, her dog stuffy never far from her side. Mycroft had come home a few hours earlier looking exhausted, Elise squealing happily to see her father after having been away for a few weeks, but the fact that the politician had excused himself to bed before nine told him just how much the assignment had taken out of him. Elise was a true angel though, not completely understanding why her Tata was so tired, only that he was going to bed so that clearly meant he needed a bedtime story, and she wouldn’t let him go without reading one to them and kissing her Tata goodnight. She wasn’t tired yet, the excitement of Mycroft coming home giving her a second wind, but Greg certainly didn’t mind playing with her a little longer, just counting his blessings that her favourite toys didn’t involve a lot of noise to them. Frowning when he heard a knock at the door, the two of them looked at each other in matching confusion since Elise didn’t know anyone who  _ knocked,  _ she toddled after Greg as he went to answer, the man scooping her to his hip just before he opened it. 

          “Bloody… Sherlock!?” 

          “Yes, I…” He stuttered, looking absolutely ragged and awful. “Can I stay here tonight?” Greg nodded as he stepped back to let Sherlock in, still trying to gather his wits about him at the shock of seeing the man again after so long. 

          “Course, yeah… yeah, let me fix you some supper.” He nodded again, sitting Elise down as he lead the way to the kitchen and pulled out a plate, busying himself with reheating some of their leftovers from that night, when he felt Elise tug at his trouser leg. “Yeah, love?” He asked, glancing down to see her still staring wide eyed at the man who was sitting stiffly at the counter, pointing up at him and looking back to her Daddy. “That’s your uncle Sherlock, sweetheart. He’s the one who plays the music you listen to each night when we go to bed,” Greg explained softly, frowning slightly as he looked up to see how utterly lost Sherlock looked where he sat staring off at nothing. Returning his attention to the microwave and getting the man something to drink, he didn’t pay much attention to Elise as she wandered over to Sherlock’s side, tugging at his leg as well. 

          “Ups?” Greg smiled at how naturally Elise warmed up to Sherlock, and at how gentle the man was with his niece, holding her close while allowing the toddler to explore his face without question. 

          “Is she?” 

          “She is, yeah. Already showing some of the healing, which is a blessing when she takes a tumble. Anthea was the egg donor and carried her for us, and Mycroft found a lab that was able to do a… thing, so that she’s a genetic mix of me and My,” He explained as he sat the plate down in front of Sherlock, chewing his lip as he watched over the man, trying to decide if he should venture to ask about John or not. Seeing how emotionally exhausted he looked, Greg could only guess it didn’t go too well. “The basement’s still open, if you need it. You can stay as long as you’d like.” He offered instead, fully realising how bad the last time Sherlock had stayed with them had ended, but also knowing that Mycroft would never turn his brother away, especially with how long he had been gone and the fact that they thought they’d never see him again. “Don’t worry about that, though. Just eat and rest for now.” Greg busied himself with dishes, not sure what to say or do as he kept close to Sherlock and Elise, not wanting the man to feel as though he was forced into sitting duty, but not wanting to try and chat him about about the last two years either. 

          “Quare?” There was a pause as Greg stopped, waiting to see what Sherlock would say, a smile on his lips as Elise muttered her favourite word again. “Quare?” 

          “Cur id quod?”  _ Why what?  _ It was strange, hearing Sherlock speak in Latin, something he knew the man could, but not having heard it in so long that it sounded a tad odd. “Ah. Ego perdidi cor meum…”  _ Ah. I have lost my heart.  _ Greg didn’t turn around, wanting to give him privacy, but the answer sent chills down his spine. ‘I will burn the heart out of you,’ Moriarty had warned, and even though the bastard was dead and gone, he had still succeeded in his goal. Greg smiled at Elise’s natural empathy, finally looking over to see her hugging him, her tiny arms around his neck.

          “Why is her favourite word. She asks it all the time, like a true Holmes. It was her first word, instead of Dada or Tata like she calls Mycroft.” Greg tried to distract from the moment, finishing up in the kitchen and leaning against the counter. 

          “She may be a Holmes, but she has your heart, Greg.” His heart panged as he saw the man’s face, trying not to make a scene of it for Sherlock’s sake as he hugged her back and commented about having the heart of her daddy. 

          “You want to read her a bedtime story? She should be getting to bed,”  

          “Does she have a favourite story?” 

          “One Fish, Two Fish this week.” He chuckled, pushing himself up to lead the way to the girl’s room and letting Sherlock set themselves up in the rocker, Elise not quite large enough to graduate to a standard bed just yet. Handing over the book, Greg excused himself down to the basement, setting up a bed and moving a few boxes that had found their home downstairs to a corner, so Sherlock could have some space. He debated with himself if he should text John and press him about what had happened, or to simply leave it for now, deciding it could wait till tomorrow at least. If Sherlock looked that miserable, clearly it hadn’t gone remotely as well as any of them had hoped it would, though Greg could only expect John to be angry to find out that all of this had been a very complex lie he had been living. Finding that he didn’t have anything else that he could buy time with, Greg made his way back up to check on his daughter and brother-in-law, smiling at the sight of the little girl already asleep, curled against Sherlock’s stomach, thumb in her mouth. “Is there anything I can do? We can do?” Greg asked in a whisper, gently brushing a few of Elise’s curls out of her face as she slept. Sherlock looked to him for only a moment before looking back down to Elise, his head shaking as tears dripped down his cheek, Greg’s heart aching for him. Standing, the man moved to put Elise in her bed, covering her before stepping away and heading towards the door, Greg only able to watch him go. 

*****

          "Mary, I'm home." John called, carrying a few bags of food he had picked up from Tesco, setting them down on the table as he heard her call from the bedroom. It had been a couple of uneventful days since the fiasco with Sherlock, not having heard from the man, and rather grateful that he hadn't. Putting away the food, he moved to the bedroom where Mary was sitting on the bed, reading something off the iPad. Smiling, he moved to her side, placing a kiss on her cheek before walking into the bathroom. Running the water, he looked to the mirror, frowning as he looked to his mustache. 

          "His movements were so silent. So furtive, he reminded me of a trained bloodhound picking out a scent." 

          "You what?" He called, grabbing out the razor and cream, spreading it over his face. 

          "I couldn't help thinking what an amazing criminal he'd make if he turned his talents against the law." Stepping back so he could see through the door, he looked to her, his brow knit together. 

          "Don't read that. Come on - that's..." 

          "Ancient history, yes, I know. But it's  _ not _ , though, is it, because he's... what are you doing?!" There was a large smile on her face, John rolling his eyes as he went back to the bathroom, trying to ignore the look she had just given him. 

          "Having a wash." 

          "You're shaving it off." 

          "Well you hate it." He had found out that bit of information the other night when they had gone home and she couldn't stop going on about Sherlock not liking it either. 

          "Sherlock hates it." 

          "Apparently everyone hates it." Hissing, John felt the razor slip on his chin as he had started shaving, his hand going up to press against the cut, coming away with blood on it. Grumbling, he looked closer into the mirror to see the cut, sighing as he saw it, moving to grab a small piece of toilet paper so he could stop it. Coming back up, he looked for the cut again, dropping the razor when he looked to the mirror. "Fuck," It was gone, it wasn't there, completely gone. He had his suspicions that a myriad of memories had come back to him upon Sherlock's return, but he didn't think he had them all. It was like when Greg had cut himself and it had healed right in front of him. 

          "What's wrong?" He heard Mary call, John shaking his head as he grabbed up the razor, doing a hack job as he finished the rest quickly, washing his face off and drying it off. 

          "Nothing, just nicked myself." Just then his phone went off, John grabbing it from his pocket as he saw who it was, anger bubbling up in his chest. It was Greg. The man who he thought he could trust, who he thought had been the only one to tell him the truth, was now contacting him after he found out that he had been lying these past two years to him. Part of him, a large part, wanted to turn him down, to tell him to piss off, but with this new information, now that he was immortal, there were things he needed to know. Mentally cursing, he quickly sent a text back and changed his clothes, looking over to Mary. "Sorry love, something came up, a bit of an emergency. No worries, I'll be back tonight, just have to meet up with an old friend."

> **Pub. 6 or 7? -GL**
> 
> **_6\. I’m headed there now. -JW_ **

 

          He got there before Greg, easily finding a table and already ordering a pint, knowing he was going to need it. He was sure this was just a check up, or maybe a ‘hey I’m sorry I lied the past two years, but I’m still your friend,’ sort of speech, but either way, it would go a lot easier if he had something hard to drink. By the time his beer arrived, the D.C.I was walking into the pub, looking around and settling his gaze on his, John surprised to find far more fire in it than he had expected. 

          “I’m sure we both have things to say. You start or should I?” His eyes went wider when he listened to the man get straight to the point, his voice sharp and cutting. 

“And here I thought I should be the only one royally miffed because I found out that the only man I trusted the past two years had been lying to me the whole time. Good to see you too mate,” John quipped, taking a sip of his beer as he settled in, realising this wasn’t going to be an easy conversation. 

          “We lost contact with Sherlock about eight months in. We had a theory of how to still find him two months ago, but it wasn’t until Mycroft physically went out to extract him that we knew that he was still alive. Everything else I told you was still truth. You think I don’t realise how much that was tearing you apart? How much it was tearing me apart? It’s a miracle he’s still alive, and I really do mean that, and you would too if you’d only talk to him!” John let out a huff, biting his lip as he held back, hearing the same damn excuse from Greg that he had heard from Sherlock the other night. 

          “Yeah, I already heard all this shit. How he did it for me, how he saved me from Moriarty, how I couldn’t know because it was too dangerous, but it was alright the rest of the bloody world to know, wasn’t it!? One word, that’s all I would have needed, one word. You all lied to me, let me lose myself to depression, have those horrible nightmare memories, which by the way, guess what? They are all back thank you very much, not that it makes a difference now.” John growled, taking another long swig of his beer. “None of you had the decency to let me know he was still out there. Instead you let it eat me alive.” 

          “What was the point?” Greg nearly yelled, John watching as the man visibly restrained himself. “What was the point in telling you that Sherlock was alive, but out on a suicide mission, and we had no idea of knowing how long it would be, where he would go, or if he would ever return? There was nothing to tell, John! Is there really a difference between mourning a gravestone now, over not knowing where their body is?” The man snapped, taking a moment before sitting back in his chair with a huff. “Don’t act like I didn’t try to help you, John. I tried to get you to talk to James, I bloody did everything I could to take care of that man even after you cocked everything up with him and you stopped talking to him. So, the question is this, are you going to treat Sherlock like you did James? Or are you going to do the same thing you’re complaining about right now, to Sherlock? Because I can tell you without a doubt that your silence is eating him alive.” 

          “I had to live with his silence for two years! This isn’t even about just this time, this isn’t the first time he’s left me! I’ve had gaps, hundreds of years where he didn’t show up, where I was left to live alone, why? Because he was too scared to come and get me after I sacrificed my life for him? After Richard had already killed me? Yeah, well it seems sort of idiotic now that I can’t die…” John scuffed, finishing off the rest of his beer, the alcohol getting rid of any filter he might have had, or any care that he held that they were in public. “I have finally moved on, I’m with Mary, got engaged. I don’t love Sherlock. Actually, I really,  _ really,  _ hate him right now. What would be the point in talking to him? Maybe, a long time from now, when I’ve lost everyone I love, James, Mary, you know the people who haven’t lied to me… once they’ve died, I’ll think about giving him a chance, but I won’t love him the way I used to. He lost that chance.”

          “Maybe I was wrong. I had hoped that you were still a decent human being, John, but right now, you’re being a right cock. Do you know  _ anything  _ about Sherlock right now? You don’t get to say that you were so torn up about his death when you’re more than happy to dance now in his misery. You never mourned Sherlock, John. You mourned the idea of him, and once you get your head out of your arse, maybe, just maybe, you’ll be the John that Sherlock loved and I called brother. Until then, I think for all his misery, he’s actually out on top right now. At least he still has Elise.” Well this had gone pear shaped, and he hadn’t got any answers about his immortality, just more of the same bullshit excuses that Sherlock had given him. He didn’t see how everyone said that the man had cared for him when he left him for hundreds of years, alone, thinking there was something he was missing, but not knowing what. Killing himself in front of him and disappearing for two years without a word, saying it was all to save him… maybe if Sherlock had come back each life he would have believed it, but sorry, he wasn’t buying it this time. The man didn’t care, this was all for show. He was sulking because he was bored, he didn’t have his plaything this time around. Letting Greg go, he finished off a second pint, tossing a couple notes on the table and heading out, needing to clear his head before heading back to Mary.  

 


	53. LII

          It had been a quiet evening, Mycroft and Lestrade sitting on the couch as Sherlock sat with Elise, the child babbling as they worked to put together the wooden Coliseum that Anthea and Ryan had gifted her. It was nearing her bed time, getting rather late, when a knock came at the door, all four pairs of eyes looking up, not sure who would be here this time of night. Lestrade stood to answer, Sherlock’s attention turning back to Elise, his expression sad as he sighed, handing her yet another block. There was soft chatter at the door, and he didn’t pay any mind, that was till he heard his name, looking up with his brows furrowed. 

          “Sorry - I-I think someone's got John - John Watson.” It was Mary, one of the last people he had expected to be here, but she seemed rather frightened, Mycroft standing as she pushed her way past Lestrade. 

          “Hold on! Who are you?” 

          “Oh, I’m John’s fiancee.” She said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, his heart aching just a tad more, Sherlock standing and holding Elise in his arms as they walked to the door. 

          “Mary? What’s wrong?” As soon as he had reached the front, Elise started to squirm, looking as if she was trying to get away, almost as if she was afraid of Mary. Frowning, he tightened his grip on the child, looking back to Mary and watching as the woman took her phone from her pocket, pulling up a message and showing him the screen, the words not making a lot of sense. 

          “Someone sent me this. At first I thought it was just a Bible thing, you know, spam, but it’s not. It’s a skip-code.” Looking to the woman, his brows knit together, a million thoughts whirred through his mind as he read her, wondering how on earth she knew a skip-code and how to recognise one, as well as how she had done it so quickly. Looking back to Lestrade and Mycroft, he could see the same looks on their faces as well, not sure but realising there were more pressing matters at hand. Looking back to the screen, he read the message, trying to read what she was seeing. It was a little hard to concentrate as Elise started wailing as if she was being hurt, Sherlock looking to the little one, not sure what had got into her. Lestrade quickly stepped up, taking her from his arms and walking off with her, muttering something about it being her bed time. Focusing back on the screen, he read the message over and over. 

          Save souls now!

          John or James Watson?

          “First word, then every third. Save… John… Watson.” It didn’t take him too long when he knew what he was looking for, the woman then flipping to the next message she had received. 

          Saint or Sinner? 

          James or John? 

          The more is Less? 

          Without another word, he quickly pulled her with, racing out the house, Mary in tow. 

          “Where are we going?” 

          “St. James the Less. It’s a church. Twenty minutes by car.” Looking around, he wondered how she had got here, if she had driven, not seeing another car in the area. “Did you drive here?” 

          “Er, yes.” Lie. He could read that one instantly, she was a terrible liar. Deciding he didn’t have time to address that now, he quickly stood in the middle of the road, watching as a car passed him by, shaking his head. 

          “It’s too slow. It’s too slow.” 

          “Sherlock, what are we waiting for?” Turning around, he saw the answer, a smile curling on his lips as the headlight came towards him. 

          “This.” Stepping directly into the path of the approaching motorcycle, he held up his hand, the driver slamming on their brakes, the bike skidding to a stop just in time. “Official police business, I am going to need your bike, sir.” Sherlock quickly flashed the badge he had taken of Lestrade before he had left, glad that the man almost always forgot to take it off him when he got home, the man quickly stepping off the bike and handing it over. It didn’t take long to have them off and running, Mary on the back of the bike, calculating how long it will take to get to the church, currently standing at ten minutes. Just as he was trying to rethink his path for a quicker route, Mary’s phone chirped, the woman reading the message aloud. 

          “Getting warmer Mr. Holmes. You have about ten minutes.” That wasn’t enough time. It was going to take him ten minutes alone just to get to the church, let alone find John in it. Speeding faster, he dodged and weaved through the cars, hearing angry noises from cars that he cut off, skipping over corners and trying to cut down on their time as much as he could. “What does it mean? What are they going to do to him?” 

          “I don’t know.” 

          “Another. Eight minutes and counting…” Hitting the accelerator, he quickly turns the corner, slamming on the breaks as they ran into a road block, the officers sectioning it off with tape and explaining the situation to the people ahead of them. 

          “Damn!” Looking to the street to his left, he closed his eyes, trying to think of an alternative routes, quickly speeding off and hearing the bike peal against the black top, Mary squeezing him a little tighter. 

          “Oi! Oi! You can’t go down there!” Ignoring the cries of the officer, he watches as they approached a long flight of steps, Sherlock hitting the gas and leaning forward, yelling for Mary to hold on tighter as he went for it, racing off towards their direction after they meet the bottom. 

          “Better hurry, things are hotting up here…” The grammar was weird, but it was more than likely another cryptic message, something he didn’t have time for right now if they were going to reach the church with enough time. Rushing forward, Sherlock slams on the brakes yet again when they are stuck on the bridge, blocked by a lorry that wasn’t moving. “Stay of execution, you’ve got two more minutes.” Slamming his hands on the bars, he looked around, trying to alter the map and seeing he didn’t have enough time, not unless he went straight. “Fuck!” Jerking the bike up onto the pedestrian underpass, he hit the gas, brushing through the crowds of people, shouting for everyone to clear the way, to let him through, jumping another set of stairs before breaking out into the street again. “What a shame Mr. Holmes, John is quite a Guy!” This time Mary held the phone over his shoulder, his eyes darting down for just a second as he looked at the screen. “What does it mean?” 

          “Oh my God.” Looking over to the park, he can see the giant pyre, not having been lit yet, but they were close, a man approaching with the torch, Sherlock quickly turning and bursting through the gap in the fence, getting as close as he can before hopping off, shouting for Mary to do the same. The fire was really spreading, Sherlock watching in horror as he threw off his helmet, running towards the fire as he wasn’t about to let this happen, flashes of what had happened to Richard all those years ago playing over in his mind. “Move! Move! Move! Move! Move!” Reaching the front of the crowd, he pauses, looking for a way in, hearing John’s cries. “John!” It was going to hurt like hell, but he didn’t care, he couldn’t let John go, not like this. Reaching in, he shouted as the fire burned his skin, tossing the wood aside, digging through as much as he could, trying to get to the other man. 

          “Help!” He could hear his partner shout, that voice desperate and scared, fueling him even more as he threw the last pieces aside, reaching in and grabbing John’s arms, hauling him out and pulling him across the ground to safety. 

          “John!? John!” Gently patting the man’s face, he tried to gain John’s attention, assessing him for any damage. He knew that his immortal cells would heal him faster, but still felt rather frightened, the memories from all those years ago haunting him now. “Hey, John,” Sherlock's voice was softer as the man gaze up at him blankly, coughing as he wheezed before closing his eyes again. “Somebody call an ambulance!” He shouted, his attention returning back to John even as others began to rush around them. 

*****

          John chewed his lip as he sat across from the table from Sherlock, the man uncharacteristically quiet for having just solved a case, being the hero he always enjoyed being. He could understand why though, being thrown on a pyre sitting a little too close to home for either of them. He had been checked by a few paramedics that had been called, treated for shock and minor smoke inhalation, but after that he had been released. Sending Mary back home, knowing she needed sleep for the morning shift at the clinic, John had allowed himself to be led silently along until they had reached a cafe that was still open, taking advantage of the neutrality of the location to be able to speak frankly with each other. 

          “Right. Um… thanks, for that. Saving me, but… who did that? Why did they target me? I thought the entire point of the last two years was to be done with this whole thing.” He pointed out, his frustration flaring up in his chest, only to be deflated by another round of coughing. “I’m alright, I’m okay. I will be.” 

          “I have been working the past two years to dismantle his network.” Sherlock started slowly, looking worried to him as he coughed. “There were two people left that I had not been able to find. A man named Moran is one of them, he was Moriarty’s second in command. The second is the sniper that was trained on you. I am sure one of them is behind this attack, as they want me to know they are aware I am back. I will find them, I won’t let them hurt you.” John sighed as he looked to the side, trying to keep his temper under control because no matter what, Sherlock had just saved him, and had stayed close to him afterwards, more than Mary had. It had upset him that she had been so distant, but she had said it was to give him space and let the others do their job. 

          “You don’t know.” He finally said, shaking his head as he ran a hand through his hair, grimacing at some of the dirt and soot that was still there. He just wanted a long shower and a heavy drink at the moment. “Bloody hell, how did you even find me then? Just… why? Why did it have to be a bloody fire, why couldn’t they have just kidnapped me like your friends use to do?” John pressed with a weary smile, trying to break some of the tension between them. “I just wanted a normal life again, that’s all.” 

          “I don’t know for sure. I have been working with my brother on this since my return, and I have people I am keeping an eye on, not that any have shown signs of acting strange just yet,” Sherlock sighed, worrying his bottom lip. “Mary came to me tonight, said that she had received a message. It was a code, told us where we could find you. I am just glad that we made it in time. I’m sorry.” 

          “Now she’s involved in all of this?” John groaned, though clearly that made sense seeing as she had just been there. The shock of it all was still making it hard for John to think properly. “Well, guess it’s good she’s been trying to get me to forgive you, huh? That, and you are so easy to find at Baker Street,” He shrugged, watching Sherlock try not to fidget in front of him before looking away again. 

          “I’m not at Baker Street… she found me at my brother’s house… wait, you didn’t know I was there? I wonder how Mary found me…” 

          “Probably figured it from the stars or something. I don’t know, she’s smart like you, maybe she looked it up.” John shrugged, knowing it should probably bother him more that she was able to find Mycroft’s address, seeing as he was sure that it wasn’t published anywhere, but he couldn’t find the energy in him to care. “Ever since Baskerville, all those damn memories, and after you… disappeared, they only got worse, but now,” John shook his head with a huff. “Now everything’s there, I think, and I don’t get it. Why me? Why now? Just… why? Why can’t I have a say in this too?” 

          “You had memories after Baskerville? Why didn’t you say anything?” Looking back when Sherlock asked about his memories, John nodded, rubbing the back of his neck before shrugging again. 

          “I felt like I was going crazy, none of it made any sense to me, and my first memory was of Moriarty dying and Richard going insane. You were so caught up in chasing after him, I guess I never had a moment to say anything. None of it made sense then, and it still doesn’t. I only have what I’ve learned from Greg and that’s it.” He said with a sigh, coughing again, though it was starting to get less harsh now. 

          “I thought you didn’t know me anymore, that I had gone without you for too long, that I had lost you. That was why I thought I would give you a good life, without me, knowing that I had lost you, but that Richard wouldn’t be able to harm you ever again.” 

          “For the longest time, they weren’t good memories. After the first one, it was mostly memories of deaths and gore. I hated it, and nothing would make it stop except time… it was like I had finally run out of horrible memories and my brain could move on.” 

          “I’m so sorry you had to go through that alone, that was never my intention. If you ever need to make sense of anything, I will do everything I can to help. I know you are with Mary, you have made that abundantly clear, and if that is what makes you happy, I will respect that. It is all that I want for you, to be safe and happy.” 

          “You could have written. You wrote everyone else, why not me too? I thought I was going to go crazy like Richard, Sherlock!” John knew he was beating a dead horse with this, but that was all his thoughts and heart had returned to, the fact that he had been alone while everyone else he knew continued on like everything was normal. 

          “I only wrote to my brother, that was all, and it was just for updates on locations and members of the networks, but when it got too bad and I knew they were following me, I stopped. I didn’t ever want them to come back to you. I’m sorry I didn’t let you know, I wanted to, believe me.” Sitting back in his chair, he held up his hands to cut Sherlock off from apologising again, starting to get worried by the sheer number of times he had already said it without sounding sarcastic, trying to pick out his words carefully before speaking. 

          “I love Mary. I want to marry her, and eventually I know I’ll have to explain immortality to her, and that she’ll die and I won’t, but I’ll figure that out then. Maybe I won’t ever feel the same for you as I did in those past lives, but… I do still care about you. No matter what Greg thinks, I do. So even if it’s never the same, and I’m still bloody angry at you, I do still want to be friends.” 

          “I understand.” John could tell that there wasn’t much more to come from this discussion, so he let it go, simply hoping that Sherlock was willing to be friends, because no matter how angry he was at the moment, there was still a part of him that felt complete again, having the man alive and back in London. “Just… take care of yourself, yeah?” He said after a few minutes, standing from his chair and offering his hand out for Sherlock to take. It felt weird to shake his hand, but outside of pulling him into a hug, it seemed like the only thing he could do. “And if you start casework again, and would like some help… I won’t say no.” John offered, trying to smile when Sherlock looked back up at him. “Go home. Go eat something. If you go back to Mycroft’s, go hug Elise or something. I had asked you, you know, at your grave. For you to stop.” 

          “I know, I heard you. I knew I had to come back for you.” Sherlock said quietly, a sad smile on his lips. “Goodnight John.” 

*****

          It was time, he needed to be back in 221b, and now that John was at least talking to him, it didn’t hurt as bad to be in the flat without the other. Lestrade was more than willing to help him get his few belongings that were at his brother’s house into the flat, as most of his things were still there, Mycroft having kept the flat in his name and all paid for. The only thing it needed was a bit of dusting, and restocking on any supplies he would need for experiments to keep him occupied. What he hadn’t expected was that his brother would call their parents to let them know he had returned, ushering them over as quickly as they could, and now the two of them were talking about mundane things… something about lottery tickets or other. Standing up, he had more important things on his mind, like finding who was responsible for putting John in the fire, walking towards the back wall where his parents sat and stepping up onto the coffee table and then onto the sofa to look at the wall now covered with newspaper clippings and strings, any sort of information really that he could use to figure out who had been behind this all. 

          “So did you find it eventually, your lottery ticket?” 

          “Well, yes, thank goodness. We caught the coach on time after all. We managed to see, er, St. Paul’s, the Tower… but they weren’t letting anyone into Parliament. Some big debate going on.” Frowning as he looked down to his mother, the living room door opened, his attention suddenly on the man who had walked in. 

          “John!” 

          “You’re busy.” No, not at all, actually, he had been looking for a good excuse to have his parents leave from the moment they got their. Stepping off the sofa, he reached down to help his mother to her feet, walking them towards the door. 

          “Er, no-no-no, they were just leaving.” 

          “Oh, were we?” 

          “Yes.” Out, now. Bypassing John, he shuffled them out the door, smiling as he went. 

          “No, no, if you’re visiting with your parents, I wouldn’t want to interrupt.” 

          “Sherlock!” His mother scolded him, pushing past and walking towards John, her arms outstretched. “My boy, it is so good to see you, and you have your memories back!” She smiled, holding onto his shoulders as he looked to her, his heart sinking as he knew where this would go. “It’s good to have you here now, love.” 

          “Alright mother, time to go, yes, it’s been lovely.” Quickly grabbing her, he moved her out the door, trying to shut it, though she was being rather persistent and jamming her foot in the way before could close it all the way. 

          “I can’t tell you how glad we are, Sherlock. All that time, people thinking the worst of you.” Glancing back over his shoulder to John, knowing that he would have to explain a few things now, he inwardly cringed as she kept going. “We’re just so pleased it’s all over, and your wait is finally over. Now you can be happy, son.” Grimacing, he tried to move her foot to shut the door again, frustrated that she was still insisting on staying here. “Ring up more often, won’t you?” 

          “Yes of course,” 

          “She worries,” Of course, now his father was getting in on this as well. Sighing, he rolled his eyes, lowering his head. 

          “Promise?” 

          “Promise.” Smiling, she reached up and stroked his cheek, Sherlock giving a loud sigh before shoving her back finally and closing the door. “Oh, for God…” Thank goodness they were finally out of his hair, but just incase, he did up the lock before turning back to John. “Sorry about that, I… well Mycroft told them I had moved back, and they had asked about you as well. It would seem my brother can’t keep his trap shut and told them you have all your memories back. I didn’t mean…” 

          “No, it’s fine.” John seemed so calm about the whole thing, and he was worried the other was just going to stop talking to him again at any moment. “Did they know too?” Damn. Looking down, he pretended as if he didn’t hear, licking his lips as he looked anywhere else but at the other. “That you spent the last two years playing hide and seek?” 

          “Maybe.” His voice was quiet, ready for the other to start yelling at him yet again. 

          “Ah! So  _ that’s  _ why they weren’t at the funeral.” Well that was not where he thought the man was going with this. 

          “Sorry. Sorry again.” John didn’t seem too upset, but it still worried him, to keep bringing this back up. “See you’ve shaved it off then.” 

          “Yeah. Wasn’t working for me. Didn’t you notice that last night?” Sherlock shook his head. 

          “No, but I’m glad.”

          “What, you didn’t like it?” 

          “No. I prefer my doctors clean shaven.” 

          “That’s not a sentence you hear every day!” Sherlock chuckled, glad that they could start to behave a little more normally around each other, share their quips and joke with one another. It wasn’t the same as before, but it was a start. “What are you doing here, by the way? Not that I mind, I don’t mind at all, it’s just… I wasn’t expecting it.” 

          “Mm, right. Well Greg said you were worried about me after the fire, and Mary thought it was best I come in to check on you as well.” Of course Lestrade would be texting John right away about such things, and Mary… well he still couldn’t quite figure her out. 

          “How are you feeling?” 

          “Yeah, not bad. Bit… smoked.” 

          “Right.” He paused before standing from his chair and moving towards the sofa. “I do have some information for you though. I was thinking about it last night, and it came to me. These are my rats, John.” Sherlock explained as he held out his hands, gesturing to the web he had created. 

          “Rats?” 

          “My markers: agents, low-lifes, people who might find themselves arrested or their diplomatic immunity suddenly rescinded. If one of them starts acting suspiciously, we know something’s up. Five of them are behaving perfectly normal, but the sixth…” 

          “I know him, don’t I?” 

          “Lord Moran. Name sound familiar? I thought it might be a coincidence, but now I am starting to think otherwise. Maybe the man is doing it so that I will know it is him, know that he is watching, what he is capable of doing. He’s the big rat, rat number one, and he’s just done something very suspicious indeed.” Moving over to the desk, he quickly pulled up the video on his laptop that he and Molly had seen the other day, the footage of the Tube train disappearing. “Watch.” Pressing play, he showed Moran getting on the car, then quickly switched to the next tape, then showing that it was empty. 

          “Yeah, that’s… odd. There’s nowhere he could have got off?” 

          “Not according to the maps. There’s something - something,  _ something  _ I’m missing, something staring me in the face.” Turning back to the wall, he frowns, his mobile beeping as he takes it out of his pocket. New footage. This time of Moran walking along a road next to the house of Parliament. “Our rat’s just come out of his den.” John didn’t seem to hear him, mumbling something about the government having information on where he had went, but this was it, their break. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, YES! I’ve been an idiot - a blind  _ idiot! _ ”

          “What?” 

          “Oh, that’s good. That could be  _ brilliant. _ ” 

          “What are you on about?” If this were it, then he had him, he had Moran, and then it was one less spider in Richards web that he had to worry about. 

          “Mycroft’s intelligence - it’s not nebulous at all. It’s specific - incredible specific.” 

          “What do you mean?” 

          “Not an underground network, John. It’s an  _ Underground  _ network.” 

          “Right… what?” As much as he loved the man, sometimes it was frustrating when others couldn’t keep up, but luckily, when it came to his doctor, he had all the patience in the world. 

          “Sometimes a deception is so audacious, so outrageous, that you can’t see it even when it’s staring you in the face.” Walking back over to the desk where John sat, he leaned over the other’s shoulder, pressing play on the footage again, watching the carts carefully. “Look - seven carriages leave Westminster… but only  _ six  _ carriages arrive at St. James’ Park.” 

          “But that’s… I… It’s impossible.”  

          “Moran didn’t disappear - the entire tube compartment did. The drive must have diverted the train and then detached the last carriage.” 

          “Detached it where!? You said there was nothing between those stations.” 

          “Not on the maps, but once you eliminate all the other factors, the only thing remaining must be the truth. That carriage vanished, so it must be somewhere.” It was so simple, and why he hadn’t seen it the first time they had watched the footage was beyond him, but now, now that John was at his side again, now they were getting somewhere. 

          “But why, though? Why detach it in the first place?” 

          “It vanished between St. James’ Park and Westminster. Moran vanishes. You’re kidnapped and nearly burned to death at a fireworks par…” Stopping in the middle of the room, his eyes went wide as everything finally came into place. “What’s the date, John - today’s date?” 

          “November the… My God. Remember, remember.” 

          “Gunpowder treason and plot.” 

*****

          John followed Sherlock as they walked quickly along the road beside Parliament, ducking into the Westminster tube station blending in with the others making their way home completely oblivious to the goings on below them. 

          “So it’s a bomb, then? A tube carriage is carrying a bomb.” He clarified, careful to keep his voice down in case someone happened to overhear them.

          “Must be.”

          “Right.” That was real helpful. Deciding to do the obvious thing, John pulled his mobile out of his pocket as he tugged his glove off to access the screen.

          “What are you doing?”

          “Calling the police.” Obviously, though clearly that wasn’t a part of Sherlock’s plan.

          “What? No!” John didn’t have time for this, he wasn’t about to go blindly into the Underground without some sort of backup plan in case they happened to fail.

          “Sherlock, this isn’t a game. They need to evacuate Parliament.” He pressed, though Sherlock seemed completely unfazed as he walked over a maintenance entrance and started to force it open enough for the two of them to pass through. 

          “They’ll get in the way. They always do. This is cleaner, more efficient.” Sherlock waved off, finally prying the gate open, the other tube riders passing by without even noticing that anything was amiss. 

          “And illegal.”

          “A bit.” That only seemed to make this all better in Sherlock’s mind, of course it would, leaving John only to sigh and follow suit. Taking out their torches as they made their way down the maintenance tunnel, he couldn’t help but check his mobile only to frown at the message that stared back at him of having no service available, no way to call for help if it all fell apart. 

          “What are you doing?” Sherlock called from a few paces ahead, not even stopping to see if he was still following or not. Of course not, of course he knew he would follow, he always did. Damnit.

          “Coming.” He sighed, plodding along silently as he followed Sherlock, trying to figure out just what they were getting themselves into and how he could ever prepare for facing a bloody bomb by themselves. There had been plenty of things they had faced together, this life and in the past, but a plot to destroy Parliament was certainly something new. Muttering a few choice words in relief once they finally came across a clearly old station, John watched as Sherlock looked around before grumbling to himself as well.

          “I don’t understand.”

          “Well, that’s a first!” John couldn’t help but jab at the man, though he seemed completely unaware as he continued to look around.

          “There’s nowhere else it could be.” He argued, closing his eyes to concentrate and disappear into his mind palace. It used to anger him when Sherlock did that, disappearing for sometimes hours at a time in his head, but now… somehow John almost found it endearing. Almost, if they weren’t trying to find a bomb and save central London from blowing up. It was amazing to watch him go through the motions of whatever it was in his head, looking around at nothing and calculating whatever it was that was happening in front of him that no one else could understand before snapping back to reality. “Oh!” Sherlock gasped before running towards the end of the platform and jumping down onto the tracks.

          “What?” John called, chasing after him but giving pause looking down at the ground below him. “Hang on. Sherlock?” 

          “What?” He sounded frustrated, already starting back down waiting for him to come along as he always did. 

          “That’s ... Isn’t it live?”

          “Perfectly safe as long as we avoid touching the rails.” 

          “ ’Course, yeah! Avoid the rails. Great!” John groaned, hating that he had allowed himself to get dragged along with this as he always did. 

          “This way.”

          “You sure?” He asked, jogging to make up the distance between them, Sherlock only half agreeing as they made their way around a slight bend in the track, hiding the train just out of sight from the station they had been at originally. “Ah. Look at that.” John muttered, bit shocked though, he knew he shouldn’t have been shocked by anything anymore when it came to the damned detective. 

          “John.” Sherlock called, drawing him from his thoughts as he pointed his torch up towards one of the air vents in the tunnel, showing a collection of small bundles attached to the sides all wired together. “Demolition charges.” He confirmed, John shivering at the cold shock that ran down his back at the realisation of just what they were facing. This wasn’t going to just be some small bomb that would spook everyone and cause a bit of damage and make front page news for a day or two, but something that was designed to wipe Parliament off the map completely. Breathing out a long slow breath as they finally reached the tube carriage, John and Sherlock got to work searching everything around them. To him it looked just like a normal carriage, simply horribly out of place enough to give him the creeps. 

          “It’s empty. There’s nothing.” John frowned, still looking around with his torch until Sherlock pulled his attention back to where he was standing over one of the benches.

          “Isn’t there?” He asked, lifting the cushion while John put his light under it to see the wires that were connected to it, leading down to the space beneath it. “This is the bomb.” Sherlock pointed out, looking back at John with a look that almost bordered fear. “It’s not carrying explosives. The whole compartment is the bomb.”


	54. LIII

          God this wasn’t happening, there was no way this was happening. Lifting the seat cushions, his heart sank further as he saw everything in the compartments, an insane amount of C4, all the wires… this was too much. Taking a few breaths, his body shook as John rubbed a hand over his face, turning to look at Sherlock now down on the floor, having pulled up the floor panel, hoping that maybe this was the answer, that Sherlock would have something in that ridiculous mind of his. 

          “We need bomb disposal.” 

          “There may not be time for that now.” Of course there wasn’t time, but had he just called the police in the first place, on their way down, then there would have been, but not now. 

          “So what do we do?” 

          “I have no idea.” 

          “Well, think of something.” His expression was stern, his hands on his hips as he looked down at the detective, hoping that all it would take was a little bit of prompting. 

          “Why do you think  _ I  _ know what to do?

          “Because you’re Sherlock Holmes. You’re as clever as it gets.” Except when he played dumb, that was just infuriating. The man wasn’t oblivious, he knew exactly what to do, he just had to. He wasn’t about to die down here, not after everything, not when he had a future ahead of him. 

          “Doesn’t mean I know how to defuse a giant bomb. What about you?” What about him? How would he know anything about defusing a bomb. 

          “I wasn’t in bomb disposal. I’m a bloody doctor.” 

          “And a soldier, as you keep remind us all,” Sherlock snapped at him in anger, torch pointed at him as John rolled his eyes, looking around as if the answer was just going to pop out at him. 

          “Can’t-can’t we rip the timer off, or something?” 

          “That would set it off.” 

          “You see? You  _ know  _ things!” John growled, looking to the other who was giving him an expression of utter ignorance. Letting out a moan, he turned around, not wanting to face the other right now, miffed that the man wasn’t giving them answers like he knew he could. As if things couldn’t get any worse, the lights in the carriage turned on, John looking around then back to Sherlock who was staring in horror at the bomb in the bottom of the cart. God, this was it, he was going to die. He had been faced with this before, but he never thought it would happen like this, in an underground station that no one knew about, and even being immortal wasn’t going to get him out of this. “My God! Why didn’t you call the police!?” 

          “Please just…” No! He wasn’t going to allow the man to talk his way out of this one, not anymore. 

          “Why do you  _ never  _ call the police?!” 

          “Well, it’s no use now.” No shit. They were done for, dead, long gone. He would never get to say goodbye to Mary, never get to marry her, never get to have children, none of it. 

          “So you  _ can’t  _ switch the bomb off. You  _ can’t  _ switch the bomb off and you didn’t call the police.” Rubbing his hand over his face again, he looked away, almost as if he hoped that there would be police lights in the distance, torches coming for them, to help, but no, it was just darkness. 

          “Go, John. You’ll be injured, but you’ll survive now. You’re not dying again because of me.” 

          “There’s no point now, is there. If we don’t do this… other people will die!” Granted, he would live, he’d be injured like Sherlock had said, but at the cost of what? So many others would lose their lives if they didn’t figure this out. “Mind Palace. Use your mind palace!” 

          “How will that help?” 

          “You’ve salted away every fact under the sun!” 

          “Oh, and you think I’ve just got ‘How to Defuse A Bomb’ tucked away in there somewhere?” 

          “Yes!” There had to be, he had to have something up there, something at all that could help them. “Dammit Sherlock!” 

          “Okay, maybe,” Watching, the man brought his fingers up to the side of his face, his eyes screwed shut, John watching on in desperate hope that there would be something up there. 

          “Think. Think. Please Think.” It was a plea, a hope, a last desperate cling to his life. “THINK!” He shouted, watching as Sherlock groaned, obviously searching and coming up with nothing, shaking his head, and finally the man letting out a cry and opening his eyes, breathing heavily. No, this couldn’t be, he refused to believe this was it. “Oh my God.” Sherlock dropped to his knees, looking to the bomb, his hands brushing over the wires, but not doing anything, and John couldn’t do this, couldn’t watch anymore. “This is it.” 

          “I’m sorry.” The voice was soft as he turned back around, looking to the detective, never having seen that expression on the man’s face before. 

          “What?” 

          “I can’t… I can’t do it, John. I don’t know how. Forgive me?” No, he couldn’t be giving up, this can’t be it, he wasn’t done fighting, not yet. Walking closer, jaw clenched, he looked down at the other. 

          “What?” 

          “Please, John, forgive me… for all the hurt that I caused you. If this is the end, I want you to know why, that I never wanted to leave you.” They didn’t have time for this, but obviously Sherlock thought they did. Maybe this was it, that was all they had time for, Sherlock apologising, giving him some peace for what had happened. “The lifetime that you… well that you sacrificed yourself, I didn’t come to find you solely because it had hurt too much, though… that did have a lot to do with it.” Sherlock sighed, looking down at the ground. “We had been charged within the community to take care of Richard, to make sure that he wasn’t a problem for the community, but the problem was that the only place to keep him, well we couldn’t keep him there permanently as people would find out about our condition. We were going to move him, but he ended up escaping. The first thing he did was come for you, and that’s when it all happened.” John let that information sink in, not sure how to take that, to start to process what all that meant. “I was broken when you died, and I knew that it was my fault that Richard had found his way to you, and that if I wanted to protect you, to never have you in danger because of me again, I would have to give you up. I loved you too much to let you get hurt again.” That part he had heard before. 

          “Yes, well that didn’t stop you this time when Richard found me. Why did you come back to me now?” 

          “I didn’t mean to, that was Mycroft. He seemed to think that things would be better if we were together, that I was being stubborn. He had kept an eye on you throughout the centuries, and until this time, I had been able to stay away. I didn’t have a choice. That is why I knew I had to end Richard once and for all, so that he could never hurt you again.” 

          “You’re just trying to make me say something nice.” 

          “Not this time.” 

          “It’s just to make you look good even though you behaved like… I wanted you not to be dead!” 

          “Yeah, well, be careful what you wish for.” Sighing, he looked down to the bomb, noting they had about thirty seconds left. “If I hadn’t come back, you wouldn’t be standing there and… you’d still have a future… with Mary,” Thanks for that reminder. 

          “Yeah, I know. Look, I find it difficult, this sort of stuff.” 

          “I know.” Yes, Sherlock did. Of course he did. After two thousand years, he better damn well know he did. 

          “You were the best and the wisest man… that I have ever known. Yes, of course I forgive you.” A chirping started, showing they only had ten seconds. “God Dammit!” Screaming, he walked over, stamping as hard as he could on the timer, knowing that whether it broke the stupid thing and set it off or not, this was it, they were done. “Fuck!” Bringing his foot down, again and again, he winced, waiting for the bomb to go off, listening for the chirping, the tears streaming down his face. When nothing came, he looked down, moving his foot off the timer and seeing the numbers flickering, going between two and three seconds. “W-What…” He whispered, still not believing that this was happening, that all it took was kicking the damn thing. John looked back at Sherlock who seemed to share the same astonished look before breaking into a fit of nervous giggles, hiding away in his seat for a moment to try and gather himself as he collapsed down onto one of the benches. “We um… we should radio out. To the police or their command center or something, tell them where we are and how to get to us. We still need bomb disposal out here.” He decided after a minute, a weary smile spreading across his lips as he looked back at Sherlock. “I just want to get very, very far away from this right now.” Sherlock huffed out a short breath before standing and moving to the front of the compartment, and John held his breath until the radio came to life, the feed full of static and broken. 

          “Come in Lestrade. We are down in the station called Sumatra Road. The station never opened, so you will have to access it using the Westminster entrance.” There was a moment of silence before Greg came through, saying he was able to copy and they were sending their men who were on standby down shortly. 

          “You had them on standby!? You cock! You did call the police!” He snapped, rolling his eyes and throwing his hands up when Sherlock leveled him with one of his all too familiar looks that was meant to remind him not to be so oblivious to certain facts. “Right. So… it’s just waiting for them now, I guess.” John shrugged as he sat cradling his head in his hands as he leaned heavily against his knees. All he could think about at the moment was how much he needed a stiff drink after tonight, in his chair, and a fire… only that was his old life in Baker Street, not his new one with Mary and a sofa and a heater. Perhaps a long shower would do some good as well. “Now what? Where do we go from this?” 

          “Well, it should only take them about twenty minutes to get down here to us, and I’m guessing you will wish to go home, take a shower, drink and spend the night with Mary.” It should have been annoying how easy it was for Sherlock to read him, but John had somehow grown used to it that it was just another part of the day, almost like commuting to and from work. It was just a fact of life when you were with the man. Dropping his hands into his lap, he looked back up at the detective, trying to study him, though all he could see was exhaustion and that look Sherlock got every now and then when he had to be patient and didn’t want to be. 

          “What about you, though?” John pressed, feeling that same urge to take care of Sherlock that he had always felt, even in this life without any romantic tug attached to it. “After this. After tonight, after this week, where do we go from here? You can’t just be alone, Sherlock, that’s never done you any good.” 

          “I’m sure I will find something, and I’ve been alone before. I will be in 221b, and I will continue to solve cases.” John sighed as he watched Sherlock move to the other side of the car, putting as much space between them, with that damned bomb and it’s flickering timer sitting in the middle. He knew he had Mary, Sherlock had been more than kind enough to remind him of that fact a few times now, but that wasn’t what he was concerned about at the moment. He wanted to make sure that his friend would be taken care of too, which was far harder than he had expected when moving on with your life meant leaving your old one behind. 

          “You’re still my friend, you know, and I still want to solve cases with you, if you’ll let me.” John said, looking out the window as his heart soared at the sight of a couple torch lights starting to reflect off the underground walls came through.  

*****

          Thanking the gods that the police were finally here and this conversation could end, Sherlock only gave the man a stiff nod at his question, not daring to trust his words just then. Waiting as the men approached, he stepped out of the compartment, allowing them time to do their jobs, explaining just how the bomb had been stopped, even though none of them quite believed that they had just kicked it and it stalled. It didn’t take long before they were dismissed, John walking out after giving an awkward goodbye, the man desperate to get home. Sherlock could see Lestrade watching him from the sides, pretending to speak with one of his Sergeants, and he knew that the man wanted to talk. If he knew that the man would leave him alone if he just returned home, he would have just left, but Lestrade wasn’t going to let him off that easy, so he just waited on the sides.  

          “Moran was arrested without incident, and Mycroft said they were able to get his computer before he was able to wipe it, so they’ll have everything they need to lock him away as well as get any connections he had started to make as well.” Giving a nod, Sherlock watched as the bomb team carefully removed the main module, securing it inside a safe and taking it out of the station. “The…. the bomb was at three seconds. You alright?” 

          “I had made peace with it. John accepted my apology, not only for the past two years, but for why I had never come for him after Richard had shot him. He said he forgave me. The only regret I would have had was that John would be dead with me had the bomb gone off.” He wasn’t about to tell him that it still ached knowing that John was going to return home to Mary, that he wouldn’t be his, and that John had told him that no matter the amount of time, he would never love him the same, not needing the rest of Lestrade’s team to see him like that. 

          “He forgave you, though. You don’t have to worry about the rest of it. It didn’t happen, you’re both still alive, and Sherlock, John does care. Told me to make sure you got home okay. Come on, I brought my own car and Anthea’s at home with Elise until we can get back. I’ll give you a lift, then we can all get the sleep we need. Even you.” He knew John cared, that much was obvious, but he had still lost him. The man would never love him like he had before, they would never be together like they had been before, that was perfectly clear. Giving the other a small nod, he followed after Lestrade, slipping quietly into the car and waiting to go back to the empty flat, knowing that it would be as hollow as he felt without the other. 

*****

          Greg smiled as he looked around Baker Street, having to admit that it did feel nice to have everyone back where they belonged, even if it still didn't feel like they were all with whom they belonged with. Sitting back in John's overstuffed chair since John and Mary had been sharing the sofa together, he looked over to Sherlock as he came in with a champagne bottle for everyone, celebrating a bit of everything for Mrs. Hudson, between Sherlock returning and John’s engagement.

          “Oh, I’m really pleased, Mary. Have you set a date?” Mrs. Hudson asked as she smiled over towards the other woman, Greg simply biting back the cringe he felt for Sherlock's sake as he poured out a glass for them.

          “Er, well we thought May.” Mary answered, Mrs. Hudson seeming perfectly happy with that.

          “Oh! Spring wedding!”

          “Yeah. Well, once we’ve actually got engaged.” Mary pointed out as she turned to offer a glare towards Sherlock. “We were interrupted last time.”

          “Yeah.” John added, though his tone was clearly more in jest as Sherlock simply smiled in turn.

          “Well, I can’t wait.” Greg offered, trying to relax some of the building tension in the room as he raised his glass in a toast, glad to see John smile back to him as well. He was trying his damnedest to be a good friend, and if Sherlock was okay with it, then he would be too.

          “You will be there, Sherlock?” Mary asked, Greg trying to figure out if that was a purposeful jab towards him or not, even as Sherlock simply turned from the window he had been staring out to watch the building crowds for his press conference and answered her with a wink.

          “Weddings – not really my thing.”

          Before things could get any more awkward, Molly let herself in, greeting everyone before tugging a man in with her who looked an awkward amount like Sherlock behind her. “Hello, everyone. This is Tom.Tom, this is everyone.” She introduced nervously, the man seeming otherwise polite and just a touch awkward, John and Greg sharing a look before they all greeted each other as well.

          “Hi.” Greg offered after a beat, already praying that the security cameras Mycroft used to have set on the flat were still up and running, knowing this would bring quite a few shared laughs once he returned home that night. 

          “It’s really nice to meet you all.” Tom tried to offer, holding his hand out to John first. “Hi.”

          “Wow. Yeah, hi. I’m John.” Greg only just kept himself from laughing as he busied himself with getting Molly and her apparent date a drink. “Good to meet you.”

          “Champagne?” Greg offered as Sherlock and Tom stared each other down once they had finally seen each other face to face, mentally proud of his brother for actually being polite and shaking his hand without a word before heading downstairs with John to meet the press that had gathered outside. 

          “Yes. Thanks.”

          Watching Tom for a moment as he sat down with Mrs. Hudson and Mary, Greg couldn't help but still feel that same parental protection he had always felt for Molly, looking back at her curiously as he sipped at his second glass of champagne. “So, um, is it serious, you two?”

          “Yeah! I’ve moved on!” Molly announced happily, Greg smiling faintly as he looked back at the other, suprised that he hadn’t heard anything before now with how often he went to her for help with cases. 

          “That's great, Molly. Really, but you'll have to excuse me, I should probably go check on Sherlock. You know how he can be with the press.” Greg excused himself quickly, pausing just long enough on the stairs to keep from laughing before making his way outside, smiling faintly at how proud John looked as he watched Sherlock answer everyone's questions.

*****

          The theater had been awful, miserable, absolutely cringe worthy, and as much as he loved the opera, having to sit through it with his parents as they incessantly asked questions and commented was almost too much. He had tried to convince Sherlock to take over during intermission, but of course that hadn’t happened. Not to mention, Les Miserable was not one of his favourite showings, and even though he would catch flack from that as so many loved it, it had just never sat well with him. Putting Elise down for a nap, he took a seat in the living room, reading his personal literature for once, something he rarely got to do with a child, when Gregory came home. 

          “Is Elise down for a nap? How was the theater with your parents?” 

          “Good evening my moon. She just went down, and do not even get me started on the theater,” He groaned, leaning into the other’s touch and smiling as he felt the man kiss along his neck, his hand going up to card through those silver locks. That was something else they hadn’t been able to do in a long time, Elise keeping them rather busy. Frowning when the other pulled away and moved to the kitchen, Mycroft sat his book down and moved through the house, walking up behind the other and pressing against his back, wrapping his arms around the man’s waist. 

          “You wouldn’t believe Molly’s new boyfriend. Poor man looks like he’s trying too hard to be Sherlock, and Molly’s trying hard to make him Sherlock too. Guy seems nice enough, but that was certainly awkward.” 

          “Mm, is that so?” Returning the gesture, he peppered kisses along the man’s neck, loving the reaction he got, Gregory melting against him as he continued to cook. “How dare you tease me like that, and then leave to cook?” Mycroft murmured, his hands tracing small circles over the man’s stomach, darting underneath his shirt, the other sneaking down to rub against the man’s prick through his trousers. 

          “Says the man who bribed me with food to fall in love with you.” 

          “You keep saying I bribed you with food, but never once did you complain that I was forcing your hand or that you never would have stayed if I hadn’t fed you,” Mycroft chuckled, continuing to palm the other through his trousers, his other hand pushing up the man’s shirt, Gregory’s breath hitched as he twisted his nipples between his thumb and finger.

          “It’s starting to get cold out, I decided to make Eintopf and we can have it for lunches as well,” Feeling the other lean against him, he moved his hands long enough to let the man turn around, leaning down to kiss at his neck. “Do you remember the first time we met in Germany? I gave you some the first time you came over.” 

          “Mm, yes I do remember that day, though I will confess, the stew is not what had me staying on the farm with you, or willing to lay on a pile of hay,” Mycroft murmured against his skin, rolling his hips slowly. “My moon, let me have you, it’s been too long,” His voice begged, sucking a mark just below the other’s collar. 

*****

**Berlin 924**

_           It had been time to move, having lost Gregory quite some time ago, and Anthea having lost Ryan yet again. She had tried to convince him to stay, saying that he had only showed up in what was now Scotland the past few lives, but they all knew that wouldn’t last and they had just got lucky each round. One life away, maybe two wouldn’t hurt, and he couldn’t stay in the same place again because Gregory never liked to stay put. She had been staying in London so she could be close to his home, with him and his brother staying around France, but now they were in Berlin, a new country, a new way of life, somewhere fresh. Having settled into their home, the only thing left on the list was a place to board their horses, and they had received a generous tip from one of the locals on a place that was just fantastic. Little did he know, the breeder was none other than his beloved, which only served to prove his point further to Anthea that it had been fate to move. Weeks had passed, and Mycroft had gone nearly every day to the stables, taking his mare out for a ride, giving the man passing glances, stolen smiles and offhanded comments, but nothing had come from it. Anthea had tried to convince him that it was time to ask him for a date, but he was content on letting this one ride out, letting Gregory come to him. Bringing his mare out into the stable, he hooked her up, grabbing the brush and working her coat, knowing that Gregory always came around this time and he would get to see him as the man cleaned out the stables.  _

_           “How are you two today?” Smiling when he heard the other’s familiar voice, Mycroft walked around the other side of his mare, watching as she brushed up against the man feeding her treats.  _

_           “She always has a soft spot for you, but that doesn’t help when you bribe her with treats,” Chuckling, he worked on the other side, his eyes darting back to the other as he watched the man whisper to his horse. “You know, how is it that she is always the one getting the treats?” It was a daring question, but they had been footing around each other for a while now, and these sorts of bold moves were becoming more commonplace between them. “I am starting to think you might like her more than you do myself.” It was a harmless jest, and he could see the smile on the other’s face as he shook his head, Mycroft always feeling a flutter in his chest when he could make Gregory smile.  _

_           “Would you like some carrot scraps as well, Mycroft?” Gregory teased him in return, the man stepping away to grab his shovel. “It is far easier to spoil a creature when all I need to do is bring a few scraps. To spoil you, I’d need you to come home with me.” His eyes went wide at the comment, thinking for one moment that Greg was actually asking him back to his home, for something more intimate, but then the man clarified and he couldn’t help but thinking himself a fool. “For the stew that the scraps came from… not the scraps themselves… I would give you the stew. Though… I have a larger barn there, my breeding stable. She wouldn’t have to stay in the city center, and she could have more space to move about. If you’d like. You certainly don’t seem to be leaving any time soon like the others that keep their horses here.” Of course. The special barn the man kept for breeding, where he lived. He had heard about it before, but hadn’t paid much attention to it, really only focusing on Gregory himself.  _

_           “Ah, right. Well, I think she would like a bit more room to run,” Mycroft smiled, placing her brush back in the bucket, letting his eyes linger a little too long over the other’s form as he worked the stalls. “Though, I do think seeing it for myself might be in her best interest, If only to be sure that she would be happy before we moved her. I’m sure you understand. I am afraid I am busy for most of the week, and today might be the only time I have a free moment.” It was a white lie, but one he hoped the other wouldn’t see through, wanting to push this a little further with Gregory than he had before, and maybe if they were somewhere a little more secluded… well, who knew what would happen then. Watching, Mycroft had to stifle his laughter as the gelding he was working around decided to try and nip at him, Gregory quickly clapping his hands in the horse’s face and bossing him back into the corner of the stall.  _

_           “Of course, Mycroft. I would keep her in my mare barn, away from the studs. While I think she would throw a beautiful foal, I wouldn’t want to surprise you quite like that. Having her where I live, I’d be able to care for her too when you’re busy, and when you do have a free moment… perhaps we could see one another more than solely when I’m shoveling shit.”  _

_           “Well, I don’t mind the sight of you bent over while you are shoveling,” Mycroft teased, knowing it would get a rise out of the other, and it would hide the blush in his cheeks as he thought about the fact that this was finally happening. Stepping away from his mare, he walked over to the stall, leaning against the wood as he looked to the other. “How important is it that you clean the stalls this instant? If you are so inclined, we could see the stable right now, before I leave town tonight for just a few days. No worries, I will be returning, just some business that needs to be taken care of first. Maybe if I like what I see there, I might be more apt to see more of you than just when you are shoveling shit,” He smiled, loving when it was easy, when he didn’t have to fight tooth and nail for Gregory to come back to him, when the man was his from the start.  _

_           “I certainly do not need any help from you, horse,” Gregory snapped as the gelding pushed his back when the man turned to him. “We could go now, it’s not a long ride from town, and I can be back to finish my work before supper.”  _

_           “Right. Should I wait for you to have a horse ready, or would you rather take a ride on my sweet Luna here?” Mycroft detached her reigns from the pegs, placing her bucket back in her cubby and walking out of the hall with her, following after the other as they went.  _

_           “Let’s ride her,” It didn’t take them long to leave, heading out towards the man’s house, happy to have Gregory behind him with those arms wrapped around his waist. Arriving with good time, Mycroft dismounting his mare, patting her snout as he secured her to the post and smiled at the sight, loving the open fields and the quaint house as well.  _

_           “This is really beautiful Gregory. You should be proud. I think Luna would love staying here with you.” Looking back to the other with a grin, he waited for the man to show him the way, heading back towards the stables.  _

_           “Thank you. I built it myself really. The home is my family’s, but I’ve built up everything else.. Shall we take a tour?” In all honesty, he would have said yes to Gregory without the tour, but watching the man’s eyes light up with passion when he talked about his work here, it lit something hot under his skin. Gods it had been too long since he had seen the man like this, so young, so full of life, and so very happy. Watching Gregory while he spoke of the horses was easy, a smile tugging at his lips as he did, not even catching everything the other said, but just loving the chance to be with him.  _

_           “What?”  _

_           “Oh, nothing. It is just nice to see how happy this makes you.” Realising how sappy that sounded, Mycroft quickly straightened himself, clearing his throat and looking around, trying to find something else, anything else to talk about. “What’s up there?” Pointing towards the loft overhead, he knew what it would be, but at least it was something other than the romantic comment he had just made. Following the man up the ladder, he stepping into the loft, basking in the sweet summer breeze that cooled them, looking over to the man as he talked about spending his nights out here in the summer.  _

_           “It’s nicer oftentimes in the evenings to sleep up here than it is in the house, and so I’ll lay out the horse blankets across the hay and make my bed here instead. It’s more comfortable than it sounds, really,” The man explained, moving to sit on one of the blankets and smiling back up at him. “You’re not still staying at the Inn, are you? You’re more than welcome to stay with me until you’ve found somewhere.”  _

_           “Not sure I believe that this pile of hay could be more comfortable than a bed,” Mycroft stated, if only to make it seem less desperate when the other predictably patted the spot next to him as if to prove he was right. Taking a seat in the hay, he lay next to the other, his heart thudding in his chest. “Well, we are at the Inn for now, that is until the repairs on the manor have finished. Once they have, we will be taking up residence there,” Mycroft smiled, more at the fact that Gregory was offering up his home to someone he had only known for a few weeks, the kindness being him in every sense of the word. Turning to look at the other, he saw how close he was, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he looked into those deep brown eyes. “I guess you were right, this is far more comfy than I had imagined, but I’m not sure I could sleep here.”  _

_           “You prefer the city, don’t you? If it wasn’t for the cold of winter and the horses needing their blankets, I’d always sleep here. The stars, the night sounds, the fresh air…” Gregory shrugged as he looked up at the rafters. “It has to do with the company I suppose. These horses are as good as family to me. If you need convincing though, I wouldn’t mind providing the company for you.” His head was practically swimming with the fact that Gregory was now offering to sleep in the barn with him, and while under any other circumstance, sleeping in a barn sounded like a nightmare, he was willing to do it if that meant he got to stay with the other. _

_           “I might need a little more convincing Gregory,” Turning over, he moved to face the man, their noses now just inches apart as they held each other’s gaze, his chest tight and his heart pounding in his ears. It was taking every bit of self control that he still had not to lean in those last few inches and kiss the man, taste him, tease him and use all his little tricks from the last six lives with the man to make him his forever. It was a good thing that he had patience and was willing to exercise it if that meant that he could have Gregory back with him again.  _

_           “I could always lock your mare away until you agree to share a night with me.” Frowning, he looked to the other, Gregory looking rather serious about the threat, that was till he burst out laughing and Mycroft couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Of course the other was making jokes at a time like this. “Stay the night with me, Mycroft. You can go and tend to your business in the morning.” He really wanted to, wanted to stay and spend the night with the man he loved, the man he had been waiting for, but he knew he should really go. “Stay with me,” Watching Gregory lick his lips and move in closer, his eyes went wide as he listed to the man whisper, the heat simmering under his skin and his breathing catching as he melted to the other’s touch, letting out a soft moan. Hesitantly, he reached up to cup the man’s cheek, pulling him closer as he gave in, tasting and teasing, wanting to explore every inch of the other, his heart on fire.  _

_           “Gods, Gregory,” Pulling back just a little as he gasped for breath, and pressing his forehead to the other’s he gave in to his desires. “Yes, I will stay tonight, but only if you promise to do that again.” He chuckled softly, pulling the man back to him as he lay down on the hay.  _

_           “I’ll do just about anything you want to keep you here with me,” Humming into the kiss, Mycroft gasped as he felt the other straddle his waist, rather surprised at how forward Gregory was in this life. It was definitely something he could get used to.  _

_           “I breed horses for a living, Mycroft. Do you think I’ve never found my mind wandering whilst working? What I would do with the pretty women or handsome men that I see pass through the city and my barn?” Gregory murmured as he moved his mouth down his neck, those fingers working on his top, exposing his chest.  _

_           “I do hope that you understand I am not just some handsome man passing through, Gregory. If we do this, I want you to be mine,” Laying his head back, he carded his fingers through the other’s hair as those lips traced down his chest. Oh, how he had missed this, missing the other, missed these moments of intimacy. Each new life was like a first time again, a new body to explore, to learn, to taste and tease, and it was a thrill every single time.  _

_           “I would not have imagined you to be so possessive, so quick, Mycroft. The man who speaks German with an outsider’s voice and the stableboy, the city will talk.”  _

_           “I know what I like,” Mycroft gasped as he felt the man lick and tease his skin, watching as the other pulled off his top, his hands going up to run across those abs, loving the way those muscles moved under that skin. “Let them talk. People do little else,” Reaching up, he pulled the man back down to him, moaning as he rolled his hips, gasping as Gregory nibbled his lips. Running his hands along the man’s back, he let his hands dive under the other’s trousers, gripping that lovely arse, pulling him tight against him and feeling the very obvious arousal of the other pressed against him.  _

_           “It is up to you. I do believe my desires are quite obvious now.”  _

_           “Ah, yes. It is very obvious. I don’t think I can quite understand how much though, not until I see more of the evidence,” Mycroft purred, peppering kisses along the other’s neck before nipping at the man’s earlobe.  _

_           “Mycroft,” Helping the other work his trousers off, as well as his own clothes, Mycroft sighed as he heard the man moan his name, the two of them rocking against one another desperately. After a few moments though, he noticed the hesitation in the other’s moves, slowing for a second to hold the man close.  _

_           “Gregory, you don’t have to do - Ah!” Cut off, Mycroft gasped and whimpered as he felt the man’s rough hand around his prick, feeling the heat rise under his skin. It didn’t matter if the touch was tentative or sure, anything from his partner was delicious and just perfect. “Yes, just like that, yes… ah!” Throwing his head back, he let the other take control, experiment, tease and test him and by the gods it was fantastic. It didn’t take long for Gregory to gain his confidence, lining them up together and stretching his hand around them both as they rocked against one another, searching for more.  _

_           “I want this. I want you. From the day you came into my stable, all I could think of was you and when I’d see you again. Now I have you exactly where I want you, and I won’t be letting you go anytime soon.” Reaching down between them, he wrapped his hand around Gregory’s, twisting and groaning as he felt the added friction, gasping as he rolled his hips into their fists. His other hand snaked around the man’s neck, pulling him close, his legs wrapped tight around the man’s waist.  _

_           “Good, because I am the possessive type, and should anyone even think about you, they will find themselves on the receiving end of a one way journey to a foreign land they have never heard of, and believe me when I say I have the power to do that,” Mycroft growled, reaching up to claim those lips in a searing kiss, tasting every last inch of the man’s mouth and moaning as he felt the heat coil at the base of his spine. “Gregory… I’m not going to last my longer, gods, yes, please,”  _

_           “Mycroft,” Gregory panted, pressing his forehead to his own. Watching the other break, to see him in the throes of pleasure, that was all it took to bring him over the edge as well, his hips stilling in one last thrust as he let out a choked sob, his breathing ragged as the man worked him through his orgasm. The stable was filled with the noises of their breathing and nothing else as they lay there, that was till his mare whinnied and he couldn’t help but chuckle.  _

_           “I must admit, I had a feeling that you would pose something like dinner once I had come out here, but I find that I enjoyed this far more than I would have enjoyed that.” Mycroft smiled, reaching up to cup the other’s face as he looked into those brown eyes that he had known for almost a thousand years now.  _

_           “I do have some stew still, if you’re hungry. It’s simple, but I like it with mustard, if you’d like to try some. It may be best to get your Luna into an actual stall for the night too, once you’re able to move again, I suppose.”  _

_           “Yes, we should probably put her in for the night, and stew sounds lovely, but fret not Gregory,” Mycroft leaned forward to capture those lips when the other pressed against him again. “Even if you didn’t have stew, I have every intention of getting my fill tonight,” He chuckled, nipping at the man’s bottom lip as he sat up, happier now than he had been in a while.   _

*****

          Greg wrapped his arms around Mycroft as he sucked a mark onto his chest, ready to agree and even make their way to the sofa until they were interrupted by the sound of Elise crying. Nearly laughing at how poorly timed it was, Greg pressed one last hungry kiss to Mycroft's lips before adjusting himself a bit, making his way to her room and frowning at how overly distraught their little girl was, sitting in her crib hugging her dog.

          "Oh love, did you have a bad dream?" He asked softly, Elise nodding as she put her arms up to be held, her daddy immediately taking her to his chest and sitting in the rocking chair, gently hushing her as they swayed back and forth. "It's alright, baby girl. We're here, and we'll make sure nothing bad ever happens to you. Promise." Greg murmured, looking back up at Mycroft with a weary smile. Yes it had been a long time since they had done more than a lazy snog before passing out for the night, but Elise would always win priority over everything, every time.


	55. XIV

          It had taken a year and a half of hard, traditional detective work, but finally,  _ finally _ , Greg was going to get the damned Water’s family in the act of breaking into the bank as he had taken them to court more times than he wished he ever had to in order to get them where he wanted. But this time he was going to get them in the act damnit. Sitting beside Donovan, the two of them having reunited for the case, they watched the laptop screen in Donovan's lap showing that the bank had been hacked into, everything right on schedule.

          “You still blocking it?” The D.C.I. asked, the excitement of knowing that they were going to get them this time starting to thrum through his veins. 

          “Yeah. Very efficiently hacked. They must be bloody pleased with themselves.” Donovan nodded, the two of them grinning at each other.

          “They must be!” He quipped, waiting for Donovan to set the program in motion before they climbed out of the car, the case large enough that they had multiple teams converging at once, some of them already moving in to make sure the bank was fully secured and there was no possible way their target would escape. “Right then?”

          “Oh, no!” Sally nearly laughed, raising her hands up to stop that line of thought right then and there.  “No, you’ve gotta make the arrest. This one’s yours, boss.”

          “You’ve never called me ‘boss’ before.”

          “Ah, well, look what happens when you’re good!” She shot right back, the two of them laughing, Greg remembering now why he liked having her as his second in command when she wasn't being an arse towards Sherlock or feeding off Anderson to just be mean for the hell of it. 

          “You know how most days aren’t good days? This is a good day.” Greg said with a nod, frowning slightly when his phone chirped that he had received a text. That certainly didn't make sense, not with literally everyone who would need to contact him there at the scene with him. 

          “Not for the Waters family.” Donovan smirked, not having noticed the tone the first time as they met up with a few other officers and she started going through the plan. “Okay: ten men on the roof; all exits covered; the bank’s closed, so there are no hostages to worry about,” She paused as Greg’s phone chimed again, the man ready to kill whoever it was who was deciding to text him right then and there, though hopefully they would stop now after two. 

          “Sorry, no, go on, go on.”

          “Um, we’ve got the tunnel entrance covered; and Davies, Willard and Christie are heading up our Response on Mafeking Road.” Donovan started up again, leading the way as they continued on towards the bank, Greg muttering under his breath as his phone chimed again in quick succession.

          “Sorry, I’d better get this.” He sighed, praying that maybe Elise had somehow gotten Mycroft's phone again and was sending out nonsense. She had somehow sent a string of texts to the Queen, though luckily Elizabeth found it all quite hysterical once it was explained to her what had happened. 

          “It’s him, isn’t it?” Donovan rolled her eyes as she glanced at Greg, though it certainly wasn't what he had ever expected to see coming from Sherlock's phone, his stomach dropping as he skimmed through the texts.

 

> **_HELP. -S_ **
> 
> **_BAKER ST. -S_ **
> 
> **_NOW. -S_ **
> 
> **_HELP ME. -S_ **
> 
> **_PLEASE. -S_ **
> 
>  

          “I-I, I have to go.” Greg stuttered, the decision tearing him up but it wasn't like Sherlock to ask for help. At least not like like this. 

          “What?!” Donovan cried, looking at him like he was nuts, though he couldn't blame her. This case had driven him nuts for the last year and a half.

          “You make the arrest.” He urged, shaking his head even as Donovan still fought with him over the idea of him leaving. “Sorry. You’ll be fine. I’m cool with this.” Greg half lied, wanting desperately to be there for the arrest knowing this was the kind of case that would make a career. 

          “Jones’ll get all the credit if you leave now! You know he will!”

          “Yeah, but… It doesn’t matter. I have to go.” Greg forced out, turning and jogging back the way they came as he dug his mobile out again, scrolling down to Mycroft's number and dialing it quickly. “My, look. I don't know what's going on, but Sherlock messaged me for help immediately at Baker Street. I need a support team, all of mine are in the Bank case. I'll see you there?” He said quickly before hanging up, sliding into his car and racing across town to Sherlock trying to think of what could have possibly have happened that would get the man to actually ask for help. Sufficiently psyching himself out for the worst, Greg barely had the key out of the ignition before he was running up the stairs to 221B, gasping for air and realising he hadn't calmed down since he had first run to his car back at the bank. “What’s going on?” He asked, staring at Sherlock where he sat at the table with his computer, coming up with multiple scenarios of where he could have come across something that had triggered a flashback to when he was in Serbia or the like. 

          “This is hard.” Sherlock complained, though he sounded more annoyed than fearful or in pain.

          “What?”

          “Really hard. Hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. Have you any funny stories about John?” He asked, lifting up a book about writing a best man’s speech, leaving Greg ready to take the book out of his hand and beat him over the head with it. 

          “What?!” Greg cried, anger quickly overpowering his concern as he started to hear Mycroft's team arrive, along with a matching set of heavy footsteps up the stairs announcing Mycroft's arrival as well

          “I need anecdotes.” Sherlock explained, frowning slightly as if he was just now realising that something was amiss. Though, to be honest, the sound of a helicopter outside the window caught Greg by surprise as well. “Didn’t go to any trouble, did you?”

          “You arse, I thought you were dying! You never ask for help!” Greg snapped, dragging his hand over his face as Mycroft joined him at his side. “I'm going to murder your brother, and you and your team are going to help me hide the body, Mycroft.” That didn’t help much as his partner turned on his brother faster than he would have expected, grabbing his dressing gown and pressing him against the wall. 

          “Sherlock! After everything that has happened within the past two years, calling for help for a stupid speech but not saying anything other than help me!? Really!?”

          “Mycroft…” Greg sighed, just not sure what to think anymore, but knowing that Sherlock was safe at least gave him a little relief. “Dammit, that arrest could have made my career too,” He groaned, plopping down heavily on the sofa and burying his face in his hands. “Here’s to hoping Donovan got the arrest at least. And the answer is no, we’re not helping you come up with stories about John, because you were there for all of them! I know you don’t want to write it, but it’s yours, and no matter what, it’ll mean more to John at the end when it’s your words and not ours. Now, I need to get back to the Yard and sort out my case, and Mycroft and his team need to get back to actual work. You’re going to stay here and behave yourself, got it?” Mycroft moved to sit next to him, an arm wrapping around his back and another on his knee, Greg leaning into the touch as he closed his eyes. 

          “You are a brilliant D.C.I love, and if the public doesn’t recognise you for your achievements thus far, and only would have because of this case, they are seriously lacking in their judgements.” 

          “You know that’s not what I meant,” He sighed, leaning into the touch either way and appreciating the sentiment behind it. 

          “You two have become far too much like Mummy and Father. It’s disgusting.” Sherlock complained as he sat back down at his desk and glared at his computer, Greg laughing softly under his breath. 

          “Go to your room,” He shot back, rubbing his hand across Mycroft’s knee before patting his leg and forcing himself to stand. “Come on. We’re close enough to home we could take lunch there before heading back to the office, and seriously, Sherlock. Write it yourself. It’ll mean more that way.” Greg nodded, holding his hand out for Mycroft to take before leading the way back downstairs. “I… sorry. I panicked. I thought it was going to be, well… something.” 

          “Do not apologise love. I would have thought something was terribly wrong as well, as Sherlock never asks for help unless it is bad. Last time he did it was with Richard, and we all know how that went. Now, let’s go home, get something to eat, and just clear our heads before going back to work. Plus, Elise is still with Lizzy, so we can finally have a meal and some time to ourselves without having to worry about the little one,” Greg smiled when Mycroft mentioned that Elise was with the Queen, the two of them in love with each other and already bossing the corgis around, though mostly just telling them ‘sit’ and ‘no’ whenever she wanted to. 

          “Or worrying about where the little one will throw her meal,” He added with a laugh, pausing at the bottom step to kiss Mycroft sweetly. “I’m assuming you had one of your team members drive you over, so let’s take mine back and I can drop you off at the office when I head back.” Greg shrugged, ready to destroy his mobile when it chirped with a text. Then he saw it was from Donovan, confirming the sting was successful and that she had got his name attached to it so he wouldn’t lost the credit he deserved. 

          “Sounds perfect to me.” Climbing easily into the car and starting back home, Greg glanced over at Mycroft and bite back a smirk at how easily he could read the man sometimes in what he was thinking about. The way he fidgeted ever so slightly, flexing his fingers and tapping them against his knee, never quite sitting still when he knew they would be alone to do as they wished. A part of him almost wanted to take the long way home just to mess with his husband, but at the same time, he wanted this too. He felt like a teenager again, sneaking around and trying not to get caught. 

          “Think you can at least wait until we get inside?” Greg teased, reaching over and squeezing Mycroft’s leg. “Love you, but you’ve a horrible poker face with me,”

          “I’m lucky that you are the only one who can read me like you do, you and Anthea. If anyone else could do as you did, then I would be terrible at my job.” Mycroft gave a soft chuckled, taking his hand from his knee and kissing his knuckles. “I’m sorry that it has been months since I have had the chance to ravage my beautiful silver fox… and if you even think about trying to take the longer route home, I will have you tied to the bed and not released for the rest of the day, making your team wonder where you went. I will make sure they know as well, leaving little marks all where they are visible.” Greg snorted a laugh as Mycroft threatened to tie him to the bed and not let him go, knowing he really shouldn’t laugh, but it was still an amusing threat. 

          “I might just like that,” He grinned, squeezing Mycroft’s hand in his before lowering it between them as they drove the rest of the way home in relative silence. Finally arriving and parking, Grg pulled Mycroft close to kiss him deeply, his fingers pressing through the man’s hair along the back of his head as he tasted his mouth, only pulling away again when they both needed to breathe. “I love you my wolf, my sun, my everything.” 

          “My wolf?” Mycroft chuckled, sitting back and slipping out of the car. Greg rolled his eyes and playfully shoved the other’s shoulder as he climbed out of the car, adjusting himself before climbing out and joining his side, linking their hands together. “I thought we talked about this love. Just because you are my silver fox, does not mean I need an animal name, and I’m pretty sure we agreed that I was more like a big cat than a wolf.” 

          “I suppose, but ‘my overgrown house cat’ doesn’t have the same ring to it,” He laughed, slipping his shoes and coat off once they were in the front hall before sliding his hands under Mycroft’s waistcoat to hold the man close again. “Either way, you are mine, and I am never letting you go.” 

          “Really, Gregory, there is no need to put an animal nickname to me. You could just call me a tiger, but I can’t promise I wouldn’t chuckle when you do. It seems so… well very much like a bad vintage pornography…” Mycroft turned in his hands, moving and pressing him up against the wall, Greg chuckling when he compared the names to bad porn. “Mmm, well good because you are mine for eternity, and like it or not, there’s no escaping now,” Content to kiss the other, he held him a little closer, breathing a sigh when he was directed to the bedroom. It felt like it was terribly far away, but seeing that look in Mycroft’s eyes was enough to press him forward, leading the way up as he undid his belt and started on the buttons of his shirt. It really had been far too long, but for once, they had no threat of interruption save the literal end of the world. “I’ve wanted this for quite some time, and as much as I love our daughter, I’m afraid this is going to break me and I am going to want her out more often so I can visit this delicious body of yours,” 

          “So this might convince you to send her to public school, only so we can have time to ourselves?” Greg asked with a soft laugh, shivering at how his was already alight just with his fingers and his lips, certainly having not had this in far too long. Dragging Mycroft’s tie off, he let it drop to the floor before making work of his waistcoat and the majority of his buttondown, always having a hard time with belts when they weren’t his own, but not minding if he left that step to Mycroft as they both shimmied out of their trousers and pants. “I love you.” 

          “I love you too my moon,” Mycroft pulled him back till they reached the bed, Greg grinning down at the other as he moved to straddle him, his knees on either side of his hips, hands bracketing his head. “How do parents with more than one child manage? I think I would lose my mind if I had to worry about the whereabouts of more than one of them, and I know we’d never have any time to ourselves, less than we already do.” Chuckling and shaking his head, he knew that everyone always found a way to get what they wanted, Elise very much proof of that concept, but he didn’t worry himself with that as he leaned down to kiss along the man’s skin, shivering at the feeling of him doing the same. His arms nearly collapsed as Mycroft found that one spot that could quite literally convince him to do anything, Greg moaning as he rocked their hips together, already wanting so much more. 

          “Cheater,” 

          “It’s not cheating, it’s just knowing how to play the field. Gods, Gregory, I should never go this long without your touch. You will be the death of me, and you are driving me crazy with need.” 

          “You have me, you know that.” Pressing another heated kiss to his lover’s lips, he trailed a line of licks and nips down his chest and stomach, just passing his prick before settling between his knees. It had been quite some time since he had teased the man open and ready with his tongue, but he was going to savour every moment he could of this before they had to return to reality. Trailing his tongue across the sensitive flesh, Greg smirked as he settled a little further down on the bed, holding Mycroft’s legs apart just so he could lick the other again and again, pressing his tongue a little harder each time until it finally slipped in, smirking to himself at the reaction it pulled from the politician. “Patience love, I have you.” 

          “Gregory, please love, don’t stop, please,” Greg chuckled as he continued to press his tongue a little deeper with each pass, shivering at the feeling of Mycroft’s nails across his scalp before pulling away, slicking two fingers before pressing them into him, his eyes blown wide as he watched his lover’s body respond to him. 

          “I don’t plan on stopping anytime soon, My. You should know that,” He breathed, licking his lips once more before wrapping them around the man’s prick and slowly sucking him down. It had been a long time since they had got to play like this, and Greg was going to enjoy every moment of it.

          “Please love, stop with the teasing, I desperately need you, please,” Greg hummed low as Mycroft bucked into his mouth, relaxing his throat to let him before moving to take control once more, spreading his fingers to stretch the other open a little more each time before pulling off as he slipped them out. “Please love, I want you, I want you to take me, mark me, use me, whatever you wish, just please stop teasing me!” Greg moaned as Mycroft begged and squirmed under him, pulling him close and sucking along his neck. 

          “Always wanting me to dominate you, and always begging when I do. One or the other, love. What do you want?” 

          “Gods Gregory, you are the only one who can make me like this, the only one who will ever have me begging and desperate…” Lining them up and pressing his cock in slowly, Greg moaned at the tight heat, not stopping until he couldn’t move any deeper, his fingertips pressing bruises into Mycroft’s thighs. 

          “Meum sol,” He breathed, watching his lover as they adjusted to each other before he started a slow rhythm, slapping their hips together each time to give them something more than just slow and sweet, not matter how much he loved that too.

          “Amica mea, mea vita, lux mea,”  _ My love, my life, my light.  _ It had been so long since they could be this loud with each other, having a few quick handjobs and keeping silent out of fear of waking Elise, but now they were alone and could make as much noise as they wanted. Quickly picking up their pace with Mycroft pulling him closer, feeling those nails down his back and hearing the desperation in his voice, it wasn’t long before Greg was hitting into Mycroft as hard as he could each time, gasping and moaning with each hit. “Please love, please…” 

          “Come for me, My. Let me see it, I want to feel it.”

          “Ah! Gregory, yes, love, please, yes, yes, yes,” Greg cried out at the burst of pain that had shifted to pleasure when Mycroft bit down on his shoulder, thrusting a few more times into him before feeling the pleasure pour over and into his lover’s body. 

          “I have you… I have you.” He gasped, only just holding himself up until the last of their orgasms passed, his arms giving out as he collapsed against the man’s chest while they worked to catch their breath. “I love you, so, so much. And we have got to figure out a way to do this again before it goes too long.” Greg murmured with a breathy laugh, resting his chin on the other’s chest with a lopsided grin. “I love you.” 

          “Mmm, yes, well I’m sure Sherlock will have a lot more free time now with John getting married, and he can take Elise while we catch up on all those months we have gone without.” Mycroft chuckled, tracing small patterns over his back. “I love you too, my heart. Even if you are a tease,” Pushing himself up to kiss the other once more, lazy and content, a soft buzz thrumming under his skin, Greg smiled down to his lover. 

          “Part of me wanted to ask Sherlock to be my best man for our wedding, but after that today… I’m thinking we don’t really need that. We’ve been married enough times, our final time I think I want it just for us and not a big show.” He thought out loud, smiling back at Mycroft, still loving that grin of excitement that came to his face whenever they talked about his immortality. He really was staying, they really did have their family, everything really was happening once and for all. They got their fairytale finish. “Though, Elise is being our flower girl, full stop. That is absolutely happening.” Greg chuckled, sliding off to the side and shuffling under Mycroft’s arm to cuddle against his side. “We can actually plan for it all now. John going through his has only made me think of ours more, and I can’t wait.”

          “I agree something simple would be best. Just us, Elise, Sherlock, Anthea, Ryan, Miles, and our parents? Oh and of course your  Mémé. She would no doubt disown you if you did not invite her. Miles will bring the rings then. They can walk down together. There isn’t much to plan though. We already said we going to get married at the Parthenon, where we first met. Everyone will stay with us at the domus. Miles and Elise will be the ring bearer and flower girl, and we aren’t doing anything else. We can have Anthea marry us as well, as she is our oldest friend. Other than that, we can just have a nice dinner back at the domus.” Greg smiled at the thought of their families all together back where this whole grand adventure had begun, the mental image of Elise dressed as a little flower girl for their wedding almost too much for him to handle. 

          “As long as we do it soon, she will still be able to fit in Sherlock’s old toga too,” He mused, grinning up at Mycroft before leaning up to kiss him slowly.

          “Mmm, yes, and we can wear ours. Would you want to have a honeymoon after? Stay in Rome for a while longer, or maybe even take Elise with us to Oia?” 

          “I think going to Oia would be fantastic. It’s one of your favourite places, and you always say that it’s your escape. Why not make it ours then? Someplace that only holds happy memories for all of us?” Greg offered, already wanting to take their daughter down to the beach to splash around in the waves and build sand castles in the sun. “It’ll be perfect.”    

          “I think we will need a couple months to be able to get everything together, and make all the arrangements for family to get there as well. I also need to contact my staff in Rome to have the house ready, and contact the Italian government about closing off the Parthenon for us for the evening. All can be done, but like I said, I just need a few months. As for the honeymoon, Oia it is. This is it, the last time we will have to do this, finally getting married with no death do us part.” Greg chuckled as he pecked a quick kiss onto Mycroft’s nose before sitting up, rubbing his hands over his face to wake himself up a bit as well before gathering up his pants to start getting dressed again. 

          “I really do not wish to go back to work. I’d rather stay here with you.” 

          “That’s how I feel every morning I get up, love, but we both need to get back to work and perhaps this evening Elise will go to bed a little early and we can have a quiet night to ourselves as well.” He said with a smile over his shoulder, his heart still fluttering even now whenever he saw Mycroft look the way he did, laid out on their bed naked, hoping that never changed. Though, after two thousand years, he was sure that there was enough chances for fate to correct itself if this was ever to be a mistake. “Come on, just a few more hours, then our day will be done and we’ll be back home again. Let me know if there’s anything you'd like for dinner tonight too. It’s still a good day even if Sherlock had to be Sherlock.” He chuckled, standing to finished getting dressed. 

          “If I think of anything I will let you know dear,” Greg smiled back at Mycroft as he made his way downstairs while his partner got dressed, quickly putting two sandwiches together for them seeing as this was supposed to be their lunch, and it would at least be good for them to actually have eaten before getting back to work. Wrapping them in tissues for them to take in the car, he smiled as they made their way out, biting back a smirk as he watched Mycroft shift a bit as he climbed into the passenger seat, always a bit proud of himself knowing he had done that. Especially when the man would have to sit through meetings and the rest of his day like that, though he would certainly be in a similar position as he sorted out the paperwork on the arrests of the Waters family, hopefully for the last time. 

*****

          “I know we already said it was just going to be me, but it wouldn’t be a problem if you were to come, you know,” Gregory called from the bathroom, the wedding day finally here and of course the man was giving another last ditch effort to try and convince him to come. “I know the two of you haven’t been on particularly good footing with each other and all, but don’t you think it’s time to put that behind us? Especially if we’re going to ask him to our own wedding?” 

          “No, love. I am going to stay here. The only reason I said we are inviting him to our wedding was for your and Sherlock’s sake. I know we have a long history and he’s like family, but I am not quite ready to be on speaking terms with him yet.” It seemed a bit childish, but Mycroft didn’t trust easy, and to break trust once it was given meant that it was near impossible to get it back. “Eventually I might be there, but that will take some time. Plus, these sorts of events aren’t my thing, you know that darling,” Calling to the other, he pulled his gym clothes from the drawer, and slipped them on. “Do you need me to help you with your tie, love?” 

          “No,” Chuckling and shaking his head when Gregory pouted, saying that he didn’t want help, he finished pulling on his outfit, smiling as the other came back into the room and ran a hand down his back. “Well, I can’t say I haven’t tried. Repeatedly. At least I’ll have Molly and Mrs. Hudson to sit and talk with. As far as I know, nearly everyone else at the wedding is on Mary’s side...” 

          “You have tried, and no one will doubt that. It was a valiant effort, but you know that once I have made up my mind, nothing will change it.” Mycroft laid a soft kiss on the man’s cheek. “Are you sure they are all Mary’s friends though? Sherlock was making a comment that her guest list was rather lacking, something about her being an orphan?” Normally he would have done a background check, just because it was John, but circumstances were different this time, and Sherlock didn’t seem concerned about Mary, so why should he. Gregory just shrugged as he moved to put his shoes on, Mycroft rolling his eyes with a soft smile. 

          “Well, he did invite his sister, Harry, but Sherlock didn’t sound convinced that she would show up. Besides us, and I think Mike… I’m not sure I will know anyone.” Mycroft shrugged, not caring either way. 

          “I am sure that you will have fun there, and do tell Sherlock to behave, though I’m sure you will be avoiding him if you can,” Moving out of the bedroom, Gregory followed close behind as they headed down stairs. He knew the man would be leaving soon, and he was just thankful he had convinced him to let one of the drivers take him instead of driving himself, worried that he would have one too many beers and then something would happen on his way home. That was not a call he wanted to receive tonight, or ever for that matter. 

          “Yes, because telling Sherlock to behave himself has always worked in the past…” 

          “Just be safe. Also, message me when you are coming home. I’m sure Elise will be wondering where her Daddy is tonight,” Leaning in, he pressed a sweet kiss to the other’s lips before turning him around and giving him a playful smack on the arse. “Enjoy.” 

          “Oi!” Gregory laughed, jumping slightly before leveling him with a glare. “I’ll see you tonight. Love you, you brat.” 

          To keep his mind off of things while Gregory was gone, he had decided on a run. They had talked about getting in shape before, to add to his diet, and his partner had always said that a run cleared his head, though he wasn’t sure he could say the same, but he had refused to run outside, so a treadmill it was. He was rather impressed with himself as well, having managed to use it at least twice a week since they brought it home, which was a feat between work and Elise. After a good hour, he turned off the machine, jumping off and walking a few paces before lifting his top to look at his stomach, rather pleased with these results. He had been at it for a month now, and he could already see the difference. As if to interrupt his peace, the phone rang, Mycroft rolling his eyes, knowing exactly who was contacting him. 

          “Yes, what, Sherlock?” 

          “Why are you out of breath?” Oh no, he was not going to tell Sherlock that he had been running, the man would never let him be afterwards. 

          “Filing.” 

          “Either I’ve caught you in a compromising position, or you’ve been working out again. I favour the later, and since Lestrade is here at the wedding, I think I know the answer.” 

          “What do you want?” There was a bit more bite to his words, angry that Sherlock just couldn’t let it be. 

          “I need your answer, Mycroft, as a matter of urgency.” 

          “Answer?”  

          “Even at the eleventh hour it’s not too late, you know,” Letting out a deep sigh, Mycroft shook his head, irritated that his brother still thought he was coming, even after he had said no far too many times. 

          “Oh, Lord.” 

          “Cars can be ordered, private jets commandeered.”

          “Today. It’s today, isn’t it?” Fine, if his brother was going to bother him like this, then two could play at this game. He would be just as much of a nuisance to his brother, play dumb, which he knew Sherlock hated. “No, Sherlock, I will not be coming to the ‘night do,’ as you so poetically put it.” 

          “What a shame. Mary and John will be extremely…” 

          “Delighted not to have me hanging around.” He was very certain of that, and to be honest, he would be delighted not to be there. The idea of a large wedding with those he did not know, all praising a man they didn’t realise was lying to all of them, sounded like a terrible night. 

          “Oh, I don’t know. There should always be a spectre at the feast.” Ignoring that last comment, Mycroft picked up a glass of juice from the table, sitting down in his arm chair, his heart rate finally back down to normal. 

          “So, this is it, then. The big day. I suppose I’ll be seeing a lot more of you from now on,” He was going to hit his brother’s nerves, every last one, just because Sherlock had seen it fit to bother him with such things when he knew how he felt about it. 

          “What do you mean?” 

          “Just like old times.” Before John, or in between, or maybe during those centuries when his brother saw it fit not to find his partner, and that’s why he had lost him now. 

          “No, I don’t understand.” Come now Sherlock, of course he understood, but if he wanted to draw this out, he would oblige. 

          “Well, it is the end of an era, isn’t it? John and Mary - domestic bliss.” 

          “No, no, no. I prefer to think of it as the beginning of a new chapter.” His brother was lying to himself, thinking that after Mary was dead that John would just come running back to him with open arms. “What?” 

          “Nothing!” 

          “I know that silence. What?” This would be the perfect place to leave it, to drive his brother out of his mind with wonder, thinking the worst, coming up with different conclusions. 

          “Well, I’d better let you get back to it. You have a big speech, or something, don’t you?” 

          “What?” 

          “Cake, karaoke… mingling,” Mycroft smirked, chuckling to himself as he could hear his brother's anger. 

          “Mycroft!” 

          “This is what people do, Sherlock - they get married. I warned you: if you didn’t find him, you would lose him. This isn’t what I had imagined at all, in fact, I thought he would just stop showing up, but fate is rather cruel, isn’t it little brother? I told you not to get involved with the courtship, it would only further your delusions.” 

          “Involved? I’m not involved.” 

          “No.” 

          “John asked me to be his best man, how could I say no?” Oh, of course not! How dare he think that his brother would say no to John, especially when it was breaking his heart. The thought!

          “Absolutely!” 

          “I’m not involved.” His brother was further in denial than he thought he was, and it was sad to think that his brother had lost John this way, but there was nothing he could do to soften the blow. 

          “I believe you, really, I do. Have a lovely day, and do give the happy could my best.” Sherlock wouldn’t believe him, but at least he had made his point. 

          “I will.”

          “Enjoy not getting involved, Sherlock.” That was the last straw, he heard the click on the other end, signalling that his brother had hung up. Chuckling and shaking his head, Mycroft moved to stand, desperately wanting a shower and clean clothes to wear. 

*****

          He had battled with himself as to whether or not he would go, not having spoken with John since that fateful day where their paths had split. James had felt bad, having said such things to the soldier, but he really was concerned for him, and he had even called that Detective Inspector later to tell him that he was furious he would enable such behaviours in John. Upon finally deciding he would attend, to set aside all past troubles and wish him luck in his future endeavours, James dug out his old uniform that they had let him keep upon discharge. Packing it away with a few more casual outfits and his gun, something he never left with out these days, not with the death threats he still received, he made the arrangements, hotel room books and secured and transportation to take him there and back. All that was left was for him to just leave. 

          All he could think of on his way there was had his friend really moved on, was he doing better, or was he still under the delusion that he was immortal, and so was Sherlock, and they were some sort of soul-mates or partners or something? Maybe the real reason he was going was to see if the man he loved had come back and was doing alright, living a normal life, or if he had lost him for good that dreadful day. Upon arriving at the hotel, he knew he had already missed the ceremony, but that was alright, only having intended on being there for the reception, not wanting to cause a scene by showing up and having things go pear shaped between him and his soldier. Instead, he took his time getting dressed in his military uniform, having become quite accustomed to only using his good arm, and bracing himself before heading back out, knowing that this was it, this was either going to close old wounds and patch things between them, or tear them apart for good. 

          Making his way towards the hall, James tried to avoid the festivities that were taking wedding photos still happening out front, but unfortunately he was roped into at least one, the photographer telling him that he had to, saying that they were taking pictures of everyone who attended the reception. The man was a bit rough, jerking him into place, and even bumping his bad side a little harder than he liked, but he stood there, stone faced until he could go. This was too close to the paparazzi who had been stationed outside his home in London for months, making him far more uncomfortable than he liked, but he would endure this for John. Stepping into the hall, he felt a bit of relief to see the pace was a little more relaxed inside, the chatter softer and people paired off into their respective groups. Looking around the room, his eye caught John’s who was standing next to his now wife, and who he could only assume was Sherlock Holmes. James wasn’t sure how to feel about the man, only knowing what he had heard about the other through John and the media, and the media was never to be trusted as far as he was concerned.John seemed almost giddy, and why wouldn’t he be? After all, this was his wedding day, but it was something more than just big day jitters as he approached him, standing straight and saluting him, which was not something he had expected. Standing straight himself, he returned the favour, looking to the man with a fond grin.  

          “Major. I’m very glad to see you, sir. I know you don’t really do this sort of thing,”

          “Well, I do for old friends, Watson… John.” James corrected himself, remembering that they used each other’s first names, even if they had been distant as of late. “It’s good to see you.” That was the truth, it was good to see him, as it had been far too long, and honestly, the man looked better than he had seen him in years, happy even. 

          “You too.” An awkward silence fell over them for a few moments as they looked to one another, neither quite sure where to go with this next, till thankfully, John broke it and asked if he would like to meet his friends. “I know you’ve at least sort of already met Greg,” Following after, he hadn’t expected that he would know anyone else at the wedding, and therefore wouldn’t be seated with anyone in particular, but it was nice that John was trying ot introduce him to some others so he wouldn’t feel completely like the odd man out. 

          “Yes, I have met Greg.” James’ voice was tight as he looked to the silver haired Inspector, still rather irritated with the man for fueling John’s delusions during the years that Sherlock was gone, but he wasn’t about to bring any of that up, as this day was about John, not himself. Giving the man a tight nod and shaking his hand when it was offered to him, James stood straight again, holding his hand behind his back. 

          “This is Mrs. Hudson, she was my landlady when I lived at Baker Street, and this is Molly Hooper, she’s a pathologist at Bart’s. Everyone, this is Major Sholto, I served under him in the Army.” Giving everyone a small nod, a smile tugging at his lips as he looked to the last, Molly, but not lingering when he heard Mrs. Hudson start to speak. 

          “Oh, hello dear! John always talks about being a soldier. You must have been so brave out there together!” James noticed the way John flinched at the comment, as it was still a bit of a sensitive subject, especially with their history, but he knew the women didn’t mean anything by it. 

          “I um, was just about to get a drink from the bar, um, Mr. Major Sholto. Would you like to come with me?” He still felt rather out of place with this group, never being a very social man, but thankfully Molly must have sensed his discomfort, asking if he would like to accompany here. 

          “A drink sounds lovely. John, congratulations. It’s good to see you happy.” His voice was soft as he smiled to the other, giving him a short nod before walking alongside Molly, his good arm behind his back, the other at his side as he smiled down to her. “Thank you for that out. I’m afraid I am not very good with social situations.” 

          “I’m not either, not usually. Drinks help though. John’s really happy you’re here, I can tell. You mean a lot to him.” Normally he wasn’t quick to warm up to someone, but Molly seemed sweet, and just as socially nervous about all of this as he was, if for maybe different reasons. But at least it gave him someone to relate to, and possibly someone to talk to instead of sitting alone the whole time. 

          “Well, the feeling is returned, he means a lot to me. We have been through so much together, and he is someone I can truly call a friend,” James’ voice was soft as he smiled to her, looking over the options, not quite sure what he wanted, but rather surprised when the woman offered to pay.   

          “What do you want? It’ll be my treat.” 

          “Oh, no, you really don’t have to,” He started to fret, looking between her and the bar keep, knowing that drinks at a wedding were usually rather steeply priced. 

          “I-I don’t mind,” 

          “First drink of the night is covered, the rest are on the guest,” Luckily the barkeep intervened, saving both of them the stammering. Thanking the man, they both stepped away, walking relative silence to a small alcove looking out towards the rest of the hall. 

          “I’m glad you and John are friends. After everything happened with Sherlock… he really closed himself up. It’s good he met Mary, and then, well, Sherlock appeared again. That was… interesting. Bit not good. But he talked about you sometimes. I think he missed you more than he’ll say,” Her soft voice and rather calm nature was nice, his nerves about being here forgotten while he was with Molly, which was an oddity as he never warmed up to strangers this quickly. Maybe it was because she was as skittish as himself, or that she wasn’t trying to tiptoe around him with his past and John, or that she wasn’t constantly talking to him about his military career, but whatever it was, it was a breath of fresh air. “Er, sorry, you probably know all of that already. I work in a morgue, so I usually just talk to dead people all day, or my cat Toby. When I’m home. Not at the morgue. I should… stop…” 

          “No, don’t stop. It’s nice, hearing you speak without reservation. Most people don’t know what to say around me anymore. I don’t speak to others, have never been one to socialise, and I find your conversation lovely.” James matched her tone, a soft smile on his lips as he took a sip of his drink, feeling at peace with her. He had been really worried that this would end badly, or that he would feel awful seeing John with someone else, but he hadn’t. “John and I haven’t spoken in a while, things got a bit… tense after my accident, both of us being in very dark places. I am glad to see that he has moved on though.” What he couldn’t explain was the odd feeling in his heart that he got when he looked at Mary, like he had seen her before, but he was sure it was just a coincidence, or nothing at all. 

          “I remember him coming to me after your fight. I told him the both of you needed to settle enough to stop being stupid with each other.” Molly said with a faint smirk. 

          “I am glad that he had someone like you to talk to.” Out of the other options he had heard about or met, Molly was by far the best, very level headed and very honest. Watching as her attention drifted to an approaching guest, James stood straight as he looked to the young man, giving the other a small smile. 

          “Tom, this is Major Sholto. John served with him when he was an army doctor. Tom’s my um, my boyfriend,” 

          “Nice to meet you, sir. They’re about to start serving the meal,” He wasn’t sure why he felt a tightness in his chest at the mention that the young man was Molly’s boyfriend, but instead just shook his hand and gave him a small nod. There was a slight relief when Tom left, yet again it being strange that he felt that way, but he was never too terribly comfortable around other men that weren’t John. 

          “You’ll stay for dinner, right? I’d ask if you’d stay for dancing too, but I’d guess that’s not much your place either. You should have seen John trying to learn, it was horrible. Between cake and dancing, maybe we could share a cup of tea before you go?” 

          “Yes, I will be staying for the reception. I used to dance, strictly the waltz for military galas, but I’m afraid without the use of my other arm, it has become a tad more difficult to do so.” James hoped she wouldn’t feel put off by his comment, as it was his awkward attempt at a joke to diffuse the tension he felt, smiling as he watched her laugh. “I would enjoy a cup and conversation with you though, if you are so inclined.” 

          “You and John might be on equal footing then when it comes to the waltz. He really is terrible at it. You should have seen it, you would have laughed watching Sherlock try and teach him.” Molly giggled, smiling back to him and brushing her hands over her dress. “I’ll see you after then?” 

          “Of course,” Giving her one last nod as she flitted off, James smiled, watching her go. 


	56. LV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we are coming to an end here! I just wanted to thank all of you for your support, and all the comments and likes! We have two more chapters to post after this one, so we still have a little more to go, and we do plan to go back through the beginning chapters and edit them to be better, because we didn't realise how big this was going to be when we started, so keep an eye out for that! Afterwards, Kaitlin and I do intend to do one shots, both for this universe, and other Mystrade one shots outside of the Immortal AU. If you have any ideas, we would always love to hear them!

          It was rather tedious, standing up in front of everybody, guests looking to him expectantly as he read through the first few telegrams, groaning at each new message that was just a repeat of the last, Sherlock looking at the next card.

          “Um, special day… very special day… love, love, love,” He kept going through, shortening the cards, just giving people the gist as he really did not feel like reading all the messages aloud, sighing as he got to the fifth redundant card and just decided to stop. “Bit of a theme - you get the general gist. People are basically fond.” At least the guests seemed to find that entertaining, a bit of soft laughter coming from the group. Looking over to John and Mary, his chest tightened, swallowing hard as he knew he had to start the best man speech. “John Watson. My friend, John Watson. John.” God this was worse than he though, his heart hurt as he had to say those words, because for the last two thousand years, John was far more than just a friend, he was his partner, his lover, and the man he was going to spend the rest of eternity with, but now, here he was, with all his memories, here forever, getting married to someone else because he didn’t love him anymore. “When John first broached the subject of being best man, I was confused. I confess at first I didn’t realise he was asking me. When finally I understood, I expressed to him that I was both flattered and… surprised.” That was one word for it. Honestly, he didn’t think the man would want him anywhere near his wedding with Mary, so to have him ask was nothing short of shocking. “I explained to him that I’d never expected this request and I was a little daunted in the face of it. I nonetheless promised that I would do my very best to accomplish a task which was - for me - as demanding and difficult as any I had ever contemplated. Additionally, I thanked him for the trust he’d placed in me…” John was frowning, looking down at the table, obviously not remembering that it had happened that way… looking over to Mary as well who just shrugged. “And indicated that I was, in some ways, very close to being moved by it. It later transpired that I had said none of this out loud.” That got the intended reaction, the guests laughing along with John himself, Sherlock’s heart lurching as he looked to the other man, that smile, just wishing this was just theirs and that Mary wasn’t part of this picture. Clearing his throat, he reached into his jacket pocket, taking out his cards he had written up, tossing them onto the table as he looked over what he had gone over. “Done that… done that… done that bit…. Done that bit… done that bit… hmmm.” Turning back to John when he found his place, he took a deep breath, knowing this next part would be a little rough. “I am afraid, John, I can’t congratulate you.” There was a sound of gasps in the crowd, John’s smile had faded, and Mary looked rather surprised as they all waited for him to continue. “All emotions, and in particular love, stand opposed to the pure, cold reason I hold above all things. A wedding is, in my considered opinion, nothing short of a celebration of all that is false and specious and irrational and sentimental in this ailing and morally compromised world.” Mostly this wedding, because it wasn’t between him and his partner, rather this woman who was insignificant and fleeting, but that wasn’t something he could say out loud. He knew this would turn out sentimental, but he also knew John would understand his true feelings as well. This was a selfish move, but so was the other asking him to be a part of this. “Today we honour the death - watch beetle that is the doom of our society and, in time - one feels certain - our entire species. But anyway… let’s talk about John.” 

          “Please,” He could hear the man mutter, hearing the strain in his voice. He knew it was difficult, and that the guests would all come to understand, but he had to get his piece in. 

          “If I burden myself with a little help-mate during my adventures, it is not out of sentiment or caprice - it is that he has many fine qualities of his own that he has overlooked in his obsession with me.” John had said that the only reason he kept him around was to have his ‘bumbling idiot’ or something to that effect, with him to make him look smart, but that was never the truth, and this best man speech was more than just that, it was a last chance to tell the man his true feelings. “Indeed, any reputation I have for mental acuity and sharpness comes, in truth, from the extraordinary contrast John so selflessly provides.” He could hear John sigh beside him, obviously not understanding. “It is a fact, I believe, that brides tend to favour exceptionally plain bridesmaids for their big day. There is a certain analogy there, I feel.” He could feel John’s gaze  burning a hole in the side of his head as everyone shifts uncomfortably in their seats. “And contrast is, after all, God’s own plan to enhance the beauty of his creation, or it would be if God were not a ludicrous fantasy designed to provide a career opportunity for the family idiot. The point I’m trying to make is that I am the most unpleasant, rude, ignorant, and all-round obnoxious arsehole that anyone could possibly have the misfortune to meet. I am dismissive of the virtuous, unaware of the beautiful, and uncomprehending in the face of the happy. So if I didn’t understand I was being asked to be best man, it was because I never expected to be anybody’s best friend. Certainly not the best friend of the bravest and kindest and wisest human being I have ever had the good fortune of knowing.” Sherlock honestly hadn’t expected that John would accept him back, be his friend again, or even want to talk to him after how angry he had been, and the fact that he was still solving cases with him and wanted him to be in his wedding, though painful as it was, it was still touching. “John, I am a ridiculous man… redeemed only by the warmth and constancy of your friendship. But, as I’m apparently your best friend, I cannot congratulate you on your choice of companion. What I can say, is… Mary,” He paused for a moment, looking over to the woman, making sure she understand his feelings as well. “When I say you deserve this man, it is the highest compliment of which I am capable. John, you have endured war, and injury, and tragic loss… so sorry about that last one,” He whispered to the other, knowing that it was mostly due to him. “So know this: today you sit between the woman you have made your wife, and the man you have saved - in short, the two people who love you most in all this world. And I know when I say, we have a lifetime ahead to prove that we will never let you down.” ‘Again’ should have been the qualifier for him, and honestly he knew that there was something off about Mary, but that was John decision, and maybe he was just a tad biased. “Ah, yes. Now, onto some funny stories about John…” Looking up at the crowd to try and get his mind off of everything he had just confessed, he frowned as he saw everyone crying, not sure why they were so emotional over something as simple as a best man speech. “What’s wrong? What happened? Why are you all doing that? John?” 

          “Oh, Sherlock!” Mrs. Hudson cried out, her hand now on Molly’s as she wiped the tears from her eyes, Sherlock sighing as looking over to John to see if he knew what was happening. 

          “Did I do it wrong?” 

          “No, you didn’t. Come here.” Without warning, John was standing and pulling him into a tight hug, one that felt all too familiar and comfortable, and one he could get lost in, but he was so shocked that the man had done that, only coming to expect rage from the other as of late, that he froze. The guests started to applaud, his confusion only growing. 

          “I haven’t finished yet.” 

          “Yeah, I know. I know.” Finally John let him go, looking to him with a soft smile and affection, a look he hadn’t seen since before the fall, his chest now tight. Clearing his throat, he held up his next card, ready to move on. 

          “So, onto some funny stories…” 

          “Can you - can you wait until I sit down?” John interrupted, Sherlock just giving him a nod as the guests still continue to clap, the noise now just becoming irritating. Luckily it faded when the man sat and he could continue, turning to face everyone once more.

          “So, onto some funny stories about John. If you could all just cheer up a bit, that would…” It wasn’t meant to be a funny comment, he actually meant it, but that didn’t stop the guests and John from chuckling, Sherlock furrowing his brow before continuing. “Be better. On we go. So, for funny stories, one has to look no further than John’s blog. The record of our time together. Of course, he does tend to romanticise things a bit, but then, you know… he’s a romantic. We’ve tackled some strange cases: the Hollow Client, the Poison Giant… We’ve had some frustrating cases, touching cases, and of course, I have to mention the elephant in the room.” No one else really got that one, but he did hear a chuckle from John, most likely remembering the incident himself. “But we want something very particular for this special day, don’t we? The Bloody Guardsman. Private Bainbridge had just come off guard duty. He’d stood there for hours, plenty of people watching, nothing apparently wrong. He came off duty and within minutes was nearly dead from a wound in his stomach, but there was no weapon. Where did it go? Ladies and gentlemen, I invite you to consider this: a murderer who can walk through walls, a weapon that can vanish - but in all of this there is only one element which can be said to be truly remarkable. Would anyone like to make a guess?” Pausing and waiting, the guests just fidgeted and looked to each other in confusion, Sherlock rolling his eyes and letting out a small sigh. Of course. “Come on, come on, there is actually an element of Q and A to all of this…. Scotland Yard.” Well, if no one was going to answer, he would then pick on his brother in law. Time to have some fun. “Have you got a theory? Yeah, you. You’re a detective - broadly speaking. Got a theory?” 

          “Er, um, if the, uh, if the… if-if-if, if the blade was, er, propelled through the um… grating in the air vent, maybe a ballista or a… or a catapult. Um, somebody tiny could crawl in there. So, yeah… we’re looking for a dwarf…” A dwarf? Really? Was that the best he could do? Normally he would insult him intelligently, but he was so shocked at that horrific answer that he was baffled as to how to respond. 

          “Brilliant.” 

          “Really?”

          “No. Next!” 

          “He stabbed himself,” There was a soft voice, Sherlock’s eyes narrowing in towards Molly, but he knew that wasn’t her voice. 

          “Hello? Who was that?” Her boyfriend, the one that curiously looked a lot like him now starred with a deer caught in the headlights look, almost terrified as he swallowed, ah yes. “Tom. Got a theory?” 

          “Um, attempted suicide, with a blade made of compacted blood and bone; broke after piercing his abdomen…” His eyebrows rose, rather impressed with the man’s theory, well, not the suicide bit, but about the blade, “Like a meat… dagger.” Then his surprise faded, now back to thinking the man was still a bumbling idiot. 

          “A meat dagger.” Sherlock could see the horror on Molly’s face, which made a lot of this worth it, along with the snickering from other guests, the woman tugging on his jacket and gritting through her teeth for him to sit down. “No. There was one feature, and only one feature, of interest in the whole of this baffling case, and quite frankly, it was the usual. John Watson - who, while I was trying to solve the murder, instead saved a life. There are mysteries worth solving, and stories worth telling. The best and bravest man I know - and on top of that he actually knows how to do stuff. Well… except wedding planning and serviettes - he’s rubbish at those.”  

          “True!” John chimed in, chuckling as Sherlock looked down to him with a soft smile. 

          “The case itself remains the most ingenious and brilliantly planned murder - or attempted murder - I have ever had the pleasure to encounter; the most perfect locked-room mystery of which I am aware. However, I’m not just here to praise John - I’m also here to embarrass him, so let’s move on to some…” 

          “No-no, wait, so how was it done?” Lestrade interrupted, Sherlock furrowing his brow as he looked back to the other, a little taken aback that he would just stop him in the middle of his speech.

          “How was what done?” 

          “The stabbing.” 

          “I’m afraid I don’t know. I didn’t solve that one. That’s… It can happen sometimes. It’s very… very disappointing.”  It was rather frustrating when he couldn’t figure out the case, as it left the clues nagging at the back of his mind for weeks, even months to come. “Embarrassment leads me onto the stag night. Of course there’s hours of material here, but I’ve cut it out to save us face.” 

*****

          “Oh no, we are definitely talking about the stag night,” Greg argued when Sherlock went to gloss over it, Molly and Mrs. Hudson both giggling as Tom looked around curious as to what he was being left out of. “And I understand you weren't of any help, either.” He added with a teasing smirk towards Molly.

          “Was too! Sort of.” She laughed, looking back at Tom with an embarrassed smile. “Sherlock wanted to plan out how to get the perfect buzz and maintain it, so I helped him calculate how fast they should be drinking.”

          "Only that didn't last and they were asleep on the stairs after two hours." Mrs. Hudson added with a shake of her head, Molly ducking her head down to try and keep from laughing too loud.

          "Never mind that, then the two of them tried to solve themselves a case while drunk as skunks. Had to lock them up in one of the tanks and convince the sergeant to let them out. Thank God for My's driving team to get them back to Baker Street. It wasn't even closing time by the time we got them back, was it?" Greg asked Mrs Hudson, the woman shaking her head as they all fell into another fit of snickering, each of them murmuring apologies as they were given glares to quiet down while Sherlock continued on with his speech. 

*****

          “On second thoughts, I probably should have told you about the Elephant in the room. However, it does help to further illustrate how invaluable John is to me. I can read a crime scene the way he can understand a human being. I used to think that’s what made me special - quite frankly, I still do. But a word to the wise: should any of you require the services of either of us, I will solve your murder, but it takes John Watson to save your life. Trust me on that - I should know. He’s saved mine so many times, and in so many ways.” That last bit was directed more towards John as he knew the man would understand the deeper meaning behind it, Sherlock looking down to give a smile to the other, his chest tight again and his heart thumping. “This blog is the story of two men and their frankly ridiculous adventures, of murder, mystery and mayhem, but from now on, there’s a new story - a bigger adventure. Ladies and gentlemen, pray charge your glasses and be upstanding. Today begin the adventures of Mary Elizabeth Watson and John Hamish Watson. The two reasons why every single one of us is…” Trailing off, Sherlock froze, looking over the audience as he said those last words, pieces falling into place, having never thought of the two things in the same context until just now. “Here today…” 

          It barely registered with him that the glass in his hand had fallen and smashed at his feet, looking down at it with disinterest as everything started to sound muffled, his eyes wide. It took him only a few moments longer to come back to the hall, realising that he would only have a few minutes to rectify this, to solve the case, to save someone and ultimately salvage what could be an utter disaster for John, the only man he really cared about. 

          “Ooh, sorry, I….” There was some shuffling from one of the helpers, handing him a new glass, the voice of his brother coming to him telling him to take control back, though, why it was Mycroft was beyond him, he always found his brother irritating, but it was nonetheless. “Ah yes. Raising glasses and standing up. Very good. Thank you.” All the guests stood, looking a tad confused as to why he had seemingly lost it for a moment, the gears still whirring in his head. The answer had to be staring him right in the face, it was right there, he knew it, but why couldn’t he see it? “And down again,” Gesturing for everyone to sit, there was a slight murmuring to be heard, but he was more focused on finding the clues. “Ladies and gentlemen, people tell you not to milk a good speech - get off early, leave ‘em laughing. Wise advice I’ll certainly try to bear in mind. But for now…” Putting on hand down on the table as he jumped over, Sherlock sat down his glass, looking over the crowd, scanning every guest. “Part two. Part two is more action based. I’m going to walk around, shake things up a bit. Who’d go to a wedding? That’s the question. Who would bother to go to any lengths to get themselves to a wedding.” Stopping partially down the aisle, Sherlock turned, looking at all of the men, wondering who it could possibly be, knowing now that their mayfly man was here, the killer from their case, the one that had got away. “Well everyone. Weddings are great! Love a wedding.And John’s great too! Haven’t said that enough, barely scratched the surface. I could go on all night about the depth and complexity of his jumpers… and he can cook. Does a thing… thing with the peas… once. Might not be peas, might not be him. But he’s got a great singing voice, or somebody does…” Letting out a frustrated groan and clenching his teeth, Sherlock scanned the room again, rather irritated by the amount of possibilities, that he wasn’t narrowing this down fast enough. “Ah, too many, too many, too many, too many!” Muttering, he saw the clues popping up, each more confusing and more vague than the last, none of which helping him. “Sorry, too many jokes about John! Now er… where was I? Ah yes… Speech!” Turning on his heel, he faced the head table, narrowing his eyes as he looked to John, then something struck him. This entire time he had been looking for a man, assuming that the killer was male, that it was the only possibility, but no… how wrong he had been. “Speech!” Clapping his hands together, a smile spreads across his lips as he walks to the front. “Let’s talk about murder. Sorry, did I say murder? I mean to say marriage - but you know, they’re quite similar procedures when you think about it. The participants tend to know each other, and it’s over when one of them is dead.” John looked furious, lowering his gaze, trying to remain calm, but the expression on Mary’s face…. Oh that told him everything he needed to know. All he needed now was the final piece. Who was the victim? Quickly pulling his mobile out of his pocket, he sent off a message to Lestrade, telling him to lock down the building, making sure no one left. They couldn’t have their Mayfly leaving now that they were this close. “In fairness, murder is a lot quicker, though. Geoff, the loos, now please!” Turning his attention to Lestrade, he jerked his head towards the door, wanting the man to leave, check his phone, to help because things were about to go south rather fast. 

          “It’s Greg.” Of course the man chose now to argue, instead of just listening, Sherlock growling in protest as he moved and shoved the man out of his seat, making sure he got the message. 

          “The loos, please.” The chime of the inspectors phone got his attention, looking down as he tried to get the man out faster, not wanting to alert their killer. 

          “Why?” 

          “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s your turn.” It took the other that long to look at his screen and finally understand, Sherlock groaning at the slow pace the man was moving. 

          “Yeah, actually, now that you mention it.” 

          “Sherlock, any chance of a - an end date for this speech? Gotta cut the cake.” 

          “Oh! Ladies and gentlemen, can’t stand it when I finally get the chance to speak for once, Vatican Cameos.” Looking to John, he knew the man would understand, would get the message, and once he watched John button his waistcoat and straighten up, he turned back around, looking to the guests, trying to figure out where the victim was and how to save them… well the problem was they needed to stop them from dying, because they had already been hit, without knowing it, that was what the mayfly did. They already attacked and by time the victim knew, it was too late. “No! No! Not you! Not you!” Crossing off people as he saw them, Sherlock shook his head until he froze, his eyes landing on James Sholto. Turning back on his heel, he looked to John, knowing that they were going to need medical attention. “You. John Watson, you keep me right.” 

          “What do I do?” 

          “Well, you’ve already done it. Don’t solve the murder. Save the life.” Granted it seemed a bit obvious to Sherlock, but most things did and then were not to most other people. John was different though, he would understand, and they just had to be fast, to get to James before the the Mayfly did, though she was smart, wicked smart. Grabbing one of his note cards from the head table and writing a note quickly, he tucked it in his jacket before turning back to face the crowd.

          “Sorry. Back now. Phew! Let’s play a game. Let’s play Murder. Imagine someone is going to get murdered at a wedding. Who exactly would you pick?” 

          “I think you’re a popular choice at the moment dear,” Rolling his eyes, he stalked through the crowd, needing to quickly get a message to James without arousing suspicion. 

          “If someone could move Mrs. Hudson’s glass just slightly out of reach, that would be lovely. More importantly, who could you only kill at a wedding? Most people you can kill any old place. As a mental exercise, I’ve often planned the murder of friends and colleagues. Now John I’d poison. Sloppy eater - dead easy. I’ve given him chemicals and compounds - that way, he’s never even noticed. He missed a whole Wednesday once, didn’t have a clue. Lestrade’s so easy to kill, it’s a miracle no one’s succumbed to the temptation. I’ve got a pair of keys to my brother’s house - I could easily break in there and asphyxiate them both… If the whim arose. So once again, who could you only kill here?” He had already said too much, just for the sake of giving him some time, but he knew that the Mayfly would have already picked up on this. John would never believe him, so that was the next mystery to solve. “There is another question that remains, however, a big one, a huge one. How would you do it? How would you kill someone in public?” Dropping the card in Sholto’s lap, Sherlock continued the walk through the crowd, trying to draw the attention away from the major. 

          “Mr. Holmes! Mr. Holmes!” Good, a distraction!

          “Oh, hello again Archie. What’s your theory? Get this right and there’s a headless nun in it for you.” 

          “The invisible man could do it!” There was a reason he liked this child, so bright, so clever. 

          “The who, the what, the why, the when, the where?” 

          “The invisible man with the invisible knife. The one who tried to kill the Guardsman.” Listening, he could hear that Sholto has stood and left the room, and now it was only moments till the man was in his room, but that didn't mean the danger was gone. No, he needed to get John to the man, needed to get him alone. 

          “Ladies and gentlemen, there will not be a short interlude.” Moving back to the front table so he can be at John’s side, he grabbed the glass, holding it out to the crowd. “The bride and groom!” As everyone toasted, he leaned down, whispering to John, hoping that no one else overheard. “Major Sholto going to be murdered. I don’t know how, but it’s the same as the guardsman. Come to his room, he’s going to need a doctor.” Standing straight again, Sherlock quickly made his way out, John in tow. “Excuse me, coming through!” 

          “Stay here.” He could hear John tell Mary to stay, a bit of relief pumping through his chest as she agreed, the both of them making their way out. They were nearly to the door when his heart sank, hearing the noise come from behind them. 

          “Sorry, one more. Whoops! So sorry! Thank you!” 

*****

          His stomach dropped when Sherlock placed the note in his lap, almost terrified to read it, reach down with his good hand shaking to open it up. 

> IT’S YOU.

          That was all that was written on the small piece of paper, his heart filling with dread. This would happen to him. The one time he comes out, to try and patch things up with an old friend, hoping not to cause a scene, all attention is now on him as a threat is being made on his life. Quietly excusing himself, he straightened his jacket as he left, Sherlock still on about the mystery, keeping everyone’s attention off of him thankfully. It didn’t take long to make his way up the stairs and back to his room, locking the door behind him. If someone was going to try and kill him, he was going to be ready. Laying his sword on the bed, he opened his suitcase, taking a deep breath as he lay the lid back and picked up a folded shirt on the top that was concealing his pistol. Closing his eyes, he could feel the weight of the gun, the fear gripping his heart as he moved to sit, shaking too much to be able to keep standing. It didn’t take long before he head the door rattling, his eyes zoning in on the door, the pistol ready, until he heard the shouting. 

          “Major Sholto!” 

          “If someone’s about to make an attempt on my life, it won’t be the first time. I’m ready.” 

          “Major, let us in,” No. John should not be here, he shouldn’t get even more wrapped up in this. He should be enjoying his wedding day. 

          “Kick the door down,” His brow furrowed as he heard a woman’s voice, it sounding so familiar but he couldn’t quite place it. That was till he realised of course, it was Mary. 

          “I really wouldn’t. I have a gun in my hand and a lifetime of unfortunately reflexes.” He warned, his knuckles white as he gripped the handle. 

          “You’re not safe in there. Whoever’s after you, we know that a locked room doesn’t stop him.” 

          “The invisible man with the invisible knife.” 

          “I don’t know how he does it, so I can’t stop him, and that means he’ll do it again.” Maybe this invisible man could get in, but the ways he could was severely limited, there only being the door and the window, but then again, that was only if it was a person coming for him, not something else. 

          “Solve it.” There was a pause, Sholto closing his eyes for a brief moment as he listened for a response. 

          “Sorry?” Muttered arguing comes from outside the door, all three voices going back and forth, and though he could probably make out what they were saying, he was on too high of alert, looking around his room to pay them any mind. John’s voice though raised above the other, anger playing in it as he growled at Sherlock. It seemed like a lifetime before he heard Sherlock’s voice again, letting out a breath he didn’t realise he had been holding. “Major Sholto, no-one’s coming to kill you. I’m afraid you’ve already been killed several hours ago.” What? That made no sense whatsoever as he was clearly still alive. 

          “What did you say?” 

          “Don’t take off your belt.” 

          “My belt?” This wasn’t making any sense, and every time Sherlock spoke it became less and less clear what was happening. 

          “The belt, yes. Bainbridge was stabbed hours before we even saw him, but it was through his belt. Tight belt, worn high on the waist. Very easy to push a small blade through the fabric and you wouldn’t even feel it.” 

          “The belt would bind the flesh together when it was tied tight.... And when you took it off…” 

          “Delayed action stabbing. All the time in the world to create an alibi.” So this was it. He was already dead, there was nothing to defend himself from, nothing to do to prevent this because it was already done. Sighing, he closed his eyes, slumping against the chair. “Major Sholto?”  
“So - I was to be killed by my uniform. How appropriate.” Setting the gun down on the bed, James stood, looking at himself in the mirror, feeling rather strange to know that this was the last time he would, that this was the end for him, and it wasn’t as violent as he had imagined his death, given his life. 

          “He solved the case, Major. You’re supposed to open the door now. A deal is a deal.” 

          “I’m not even supposed to have this any more. They gave me special dispensation to keep it. I couldn’t imagine life out of this uniform. I supposed - given the circumstances - I don’t have to. When so many want you dead, it hardly seems good manners to argue.” Moving his good arm to the fastener on his belt, hand shaking as he looked to the mirror, James took a deep breath, actually scared more in this moment than he had ever been while on duty. 

          “Whatever you’re doing in there, James, stop it, right now. I will kick this door down.” 

          “Mr. Holmes, you and I are similar, I think.” 

          “Yes, I think we are.” 

          “There’s a proper time to die, isn’t there?” That wasn’t the only way they were similar, but he knew that without stating it outright, the man would be clever enough to catch on. 

          “Of course there is.” 

          “And one should embrace it when it comes - like a soldier.” 

          “Of course one should, but not at John’s wedding.  _ We  _ wouldn’t do that, would we - you and me? We would never do that to our John Watson.” How could he have been so selfish? Closing his eyes to stop the flow of tears that threatened to spill over, James took a few shaky breaths, trying to calm himself as he let go of the belt fastener, the metal clicking back into place. When he wasn’t on the verge of a breakdown, he slowly moved over to the door, unlocking it and pulling it open. 

          “I believe I am in need of medical attention.” 

          “I believe I am your doctor.” Moving back, James watched as John, Sherlock and Mary all flooded into his room, his nerves going through the roof with this many people, but he trusted John. Closing the door, he took a seat on the bed, not sure where else he should be at the moment. “James… we um, right. Once we take off the belt, we’ll have to act fast. We should be doing this in a hospital, though I know you won’t want that. I just… I need help.” No, he wouldn’t want to go to the hospital, he had spent far too much time there, but he knew eventually he would have to go there, but for now, he only trusted John. 

          “Molly.” Sherlock spoke, everyone’s eyes turning to him, as if the answer had made no sense. “You said you needed help, Molly is downstairs. She is qualified,” John had said she was a pathologist at Bart’s, which meant that she had studied medicine, and though she may not be a doctor, something about her reassured him, and he was positive that if Sherlock was recommending her, he would be safe with her as well. Looking back to John, James gave the man a small nod, letting him know that he was okay with it. 

          “You don’t need to go get Molly, I can help. Have you forgotten that I’m a nurse?” Nerves bubbled up inside his chest when he heard Mary saying she wanted to help, still not sure why he didn’t trust her, but he was rather thankful when Sherlock stepped in again. 

          “It’s your wedding day, there’s no need to get blood on your dress. Molly will be plenty happy to help,” 

          “Just give me a minute to find her, and we’ll be right back. James, keep your belt on for now. Please, Sherlock, figure out who did this and get Lestrade on it. Now,” As John left, James ran his hand across his thighs, trying to keep his nerves under control as he looked to the detective. 

          “I don’t know who it could be. I haven’t been close enough for anyone to touch me, except John, Molly and…” His voice trailed off as he thought about when he first arrived, the photographer forcing him into a photo, jerking him around for the position and even hitting his side rather hard. “No…” 

          “The photographer.” Sherlock said after a pause, James just nodding when the man caught on, in too much shock to even be amazed at how the man had made that jump. He guessed the stories he had read and heard were at least partially true, the man was a genius. “Everyone was lined up for photos before coming into the hall. It was thought to be the easiest way to make sure there were photos of everyone. It gave him the perfect chance to have access to everyone.” 

          “I hired him myself, he seemed sweet enough. How was I supposed to know he would try and murder Major Sholto?” Mary defended herself, avoiding either of their questioning gazes, drumming her fingers on her knee. 

          “I’m going to step into the hall and call Lestrade to make the arrest. I already had him lock down the venue so no one is coming or going. John and Molly will save you, Major. I’m sure of it.” Giving a tight smile to the detective as he stepped out, he rubbed his hand over his thighs again, feeling on edge now that he was left alone in the room with Mary. 

          “No matter what these boys think, I’m not some damsel in distress. I can help you just as much as Molly can. Go ahead and take off your belt, I can assess the situation. We don’t even know if you have been stabbed or not. There’s no blood, this is all just theory. John did say time was of the essence, so let’s take care of this right now.” It didn’t take her long to pounce when Sherlock left, the woman standing in front of him saying that she would handle this, his brows knitting together. 

          “No offense, ma’am, but I’d rather wait for John. I have known him for years, and he’s the only one I trust with my life. Sorry, it’s just something between soldiers…” James tried to explain away, not wanting to offend her, but her stare just grew more intense. Moving his hand to cover the fastener, he didn’t want to give her the chance to try and pull it off him, moving back a little more on the bed. 

          “I expected more from you, you know. John always talked about how brave you were,” Mary spat, her attitude completely changing, James nervously looking around for where he had left his gun, his hands starting to shake. 

          “Lestrade’s on it, with support coming to make sure we get him without any issues. Mary, I’m sure the rest of the guests are starting to wonder what’s going on. Would you mind going down and explaining to them what’s happened? I’d go myself, but I doubt they will want to listen to me after having already hijacked your wedding. Sorry.” Sherlock half apologised, taking a step towards him, James thankful that it put some distance between himself and Mary. 

          “Yes, I suppose. Never a dull moment around you, is there? Don’t take too long.” She smiled so sweetly to Sherlock before turning her gaze back to him and he could see the anger in her eyes. “Good bye, James Sholto.” His heart nearly stopped in his chest, a ringing screeching loud in his ears as everything finally clicked into place. Now he knew why he had been so on edge around Mary, why there was a familiarity in her voice that he couldn’t place… All it took was those four words. ‘Good bye James Sholto’. That was what the woman had said to him after she had attacked his group in Afghanistan. James felt like he couldn’t breathe, like his world was collapsing in on him. She was there, married to John… she had tried to kill him before and was trying again now… Had Sherlock not just walked in, she more than likely would have succeeded in taking off his belt and letting him bleed out. How could he say that to John though? The man looked so happy, had finally moved on, but his wife was a bloody psychopath who had alerted the militants to their presence, killed his entire battalion, had personally tried to kill him, and had stood over his body saying those exact words while he lay dying in the sand. The man would never believe him… 

          “Major Sholto? James. John is coming, he will save your life as he’s done for so many of us… as I’m sure you’ve done for him as well… I won’t let you die, I promise you that.” Shaking his head as Sherlock called his name and tried to tell him he would be safe, James reached out, placing his good hand on the other’s shoulder. 

          “No, Sherlock, no!” Hissing, he looked to the other, not sure how much time they would have before John was back in the room with Molly. “Look, this is going to sound insane, but I need you to believe me. Use that massive brain of yours. Mary isn’t who she says she is. The attack on my troops in Afghanistan, she was there, she tried to have me killed. She’s behind this, I know she is, trying to finish the job. I don’t know why she wants me gone, but she does, and I don’t think John is safe either. Please, I don’t care about my life, but I care about John. You have to make sure she doesn’t get to him.” After everything he had been through, his life was of little importance to him in comparison to John’s, and he had to at least try what he could to save the other. James watched the other, his heart pounding as all the man did was pull out his mobile, shooting off a few texts. “Sherlock, you have to do something! Who ever it is that you are texting, they will not get here in time, you must go after her!” It was frustrating not being able to do what he wanted, having to worry about the fact that he was wounded, or that half of his body did not respond the way it used to. 

          “I believe you. I was an idiot and didn’t put everything together until today at the best man’s speech when I realised this would happen, which I apologise for as well. I care about John too. As you said, we are alike in that. I just need a way to prove that it’s her. After that, my brother will arrest her, their marriage will be null, and while John may be angry, I will find a way to take the blame for it. He was already angry enough at me for my death, it won’t be much more for him to be angry at me about this as well.” 

          “The photographer, get him to confess. I am sure she hired him, she even said so while she was in the room. There must be some…” James’ voice trailed off when it hit him what Sherlock had said, that the man was going to take the blame for Mary. “Why would you be to blame? Sherlock… you cannot take the fault for this, it wasn’t you who made Mary do it,” His voice was soft as he looked to the other, his heart aching for the man he barely knew. 

          “Lestrade has the venue on lockdown, no one coming in or leaving. He’s already arresting the photographer, and no doubt he’ll talk as anyone who is hired by another so often do. My brother is in the government, he will be sending a special team to arrest Mary. She is far too dangerous for any of us to approach her, but she is possessive of John now, which will only serve to protect him. I just need to focus on protecting you. I will take the blame because even as you said before, James, I’m the great Sherlock Holmes. I read people and can tell everything about them, it’s what I do. I didn’t read Mary though, and I’ve taken John’s happiness away every time he had finally found it. If I tell him, he hasn’t looked at me the way he does you since my return, but I can give him this. We both want that for our John, don’t we?” Sherlock asked softly. Any lingering distaste for the detective that he had left over from the damage he did to John, was gone with those words. Sherlock genuinely cared about John, loved the man the same way he did, and was willing to sacrifice his own happiness so that John could have his own. 

          “You are a great man, Sherlock Holmes, and John is lucky to have you.” Setting his arm on the man’s shoulder, he could see the walls go back up as soon as John and Molly came within earshot, the two of them rounding the corner. Sitting up, he looked to the two, his chest tight as he tried to keep a straight face, feeling an overwhelming sense of guilt that he knew what was about to happen to his friend. 

          “Major, are you alright? Mary told everyone that life around Sherlock is like living one big game of Cluedo,” She tried to joke, glancing over towards Sherlock who simply rolled his eyes before excusing himself to track down Lestrade. “John and I will patch you up, promise. Well, John will. I’ll do my best to help.” 

          “I believe in the capable hands of you both, I will be.” James tried not to wince at the mention of Mary, not sure if he had succeeded, but thankfully it could be written off to the discomfort he was feeling in know that if they weren’t careful, this would be it for him. “I trust the both of you with my life.” It was the truth. Though he hardly knew Molly, he could tell that she was a kind hearted person, and if John trusted her, as well as Sherlock, he did as well.

*****

          Once Sherlock had texted him that their suspect was the photographer, Greg’s job was pretty easy. Grabbing his police belt from the back room and putting the man under arrest while he waited for his team to show up for support, he knew that it was only a matter of chance that the suspect would start speaking, but he hadn’t expected the response at all from the other.  

          “Look, it’s Mary who set this up. I’m not even a photographer, really. I just do it in my spare time. My brother was one of the soldiers under Sholto’s watch when he died and yeah, I said some stuff… that he’s a bastard, and that I wanted him dead, but I never thought I’d see him, or that I’d even do it if I had. Mary found me, called me up and offered this to me. Told me I could get my revenge on the man who took my brother away, showed me how to kill him too. I didn’t want to kill that other kid, but she told me I had to prove that I would do it, or she’d try it out on me instead. She’s a total nutter, man, started telling me that if I went to you that I’d never see my family again. I couldn’t back out. I’ll always blame Sholto for killing my brother, and he better always remember his name and this moment, but I didn’t want that other kid to die… he didn’t do anything.” Blinking in the shock of it all, Greg swallowed thickly as he tried to process, his panic starting to grow as he remembered back to the video call Mycroft had watched over between John and the Major, not able to figure out who had hacked in as well, but now with this… 

          “You’re still getting arrested mate, but if what you said can be proven and you testify, we can get you a reduced sentence.” Thankful when the officers showed up, he handed the man off, running back down the hall and grabbing his phone to text Mycroft as he tried to find Sherlock. 

> **Get Elise, Anthea, Ryan, and Miles to a safe house, now! Need everything you can get to me at the wedding. Mary is the last sniper. -GL**

          Seeing Sherlock on the edge of the reception all, everyone else starting to mill around with drinks again, Greg cursed under his breath as he did his best to avoid being stopped, glad when the other seemed just as focused on getting to him as well. 

          “Erat autem Maria. Et ultimo est pellentesque.”  _ It was Mary. She’s the last sniper.  _ Greg didn’t try to fight Sherlock when he was pulled into an alcove, simply trying to do whatever they could to get this over with once and for all, without panicking any more than he already was. 

          “Ego sum missus ad Mycroft, et opus est illi emere bigas est.”  _ I have sent word to Mycroft, we need to buy him and his team time.  _ Almost laughing when Sherlock said he had contact Mycroft for help, the D.C.I. knew that his added request would only prove how dire the situation really was. “James is with John and Molly. They have him patched and I know they are calling an ambulance. Et cum eum interficere conatus est autem egressus fuerat de camera.”  _ She had tried to kill him when we had stepped out of the room.  _ Relieved to hear that James was being seen to by someone they actually trusted, his blood ran cold as a rage blasted through his chest at hearing that Mary had tried to kill the Major, cursing in English before looking out back towards the main hall, his frustration growing, not sure what to do before an idea came to mind. 

          “She hired the photographer. I am going to need a witness statement, so I can bring her in here for an interview,” Greg offered, looking to Sherlock and hoping he would agree to it. “Ego ludere bruta ut totius rei. Quod si dare Mycroft satis temporis abesse…”  _ I will play dumb through to the whole situation. That should give Mycroft enough time to get here.  _

          “No, that won’t work. Well, it will, but you can’t be alone with her. She is dangerous, Lestrade, and there is no telling what she will do when she knows we have discovered her identity.” Pausing, Sherlock let him go, pacing the room with his hands in a steeple in front of his lips. “John.” Looking to the other with a look of confusion, he saw the other let out a groan while rolling his eyes. “Take John in the interview with you, say that you are asking them both for statements. She won’t fly off the deep end. She’s attached to him, for one reason or another, and she won’t jeapordise that with him in there, you’ll be safer than if you did it alone.” Greg wasn’t completely sold on the idea of having John with them for the interview, worried for his safety the same as James’, but if Sherlock was comfortable with it, then he was sure it would be safe enough. 

          “Let’s get John first, then Mary. I have a few officers standing by to assist with keeping everything on lockdown until I give the all clear.” He decided as he lead the way back to James’ room, smiling faintly to himself as he saw Molly speaking softly to the Major, at his side while John finished wrapping a tight bandage around his abdomen. 

          “Just like the other soldier; clean wound, couple of stitches, lots of pressure,” John announced to everyone, frowning at the bit of blood on his gloved hands before taking them off and tossing them into the bin. 

          “I still think you should come with me to Bart’s so we can make sure there’s no internal bleeding,” Molly urged the man gently, glancing up at Sherlock and Greg as they looked the room over. 

          “It’s a good idea,” Greg agreed with a shrug, noticing how James still seemed unsure about going anywhere he wasn’t familiar with. “Well, seems Molly wouldn’t mind going with you, and I’ll be needing to borrow John anyway. We have a confession from the photographer, but we still need statements from him and Mary to lock everything into place,” John frowned at that, but squeezed James’ good shoulder in assurance before he moved to Greg’s side, Molly already working to help the Major into a spare shirt he had packed in his suitcase. 

          “It won’t take long, and I know where to find the both of you. I’ll save you both some cake,” John joked weakly, nodding back to them all. “Right, let’s go find Mary and hopefully we can get this day back on track.” 

*****

          “Shit,” Smoke filled the room as he coughed, breathing in a lungful of clouded air, waving his hands in front of the oven. This was what happened when he was left to his own devices, when Gregory was gone and there was no one to cook for him. They had done shepards pie before, and it had seemed simple enough, but somehow he still managed to burn the bloody thing and was now left staring at charred potatoes and a rumbling stomach. Letting out a deep sigh, Mycroft sat back down at the bar, his head in his hands. It was take away tonight, which it should have just been in the first place, but no one could say he hadn’t tried. Reaching for his phone, his brows knit as he saw the message pop up just before he touched the device, picking it up and seeing it was from Gregory. Probably just a text about how bored he was, or something ridiculous his brother had done. There was also a message from Sherlock he hadn’t seen, probably because he hadn’t heard the chime over the smoke detectors going off. Opening it up, it only took him a few seconds before his heart dropped and he was out of his chair, keys in hand and in a car. Informing his head of security to get Ryan, Anthea, Miles and Elise somewhere safe, to the most secure location he had, he sped down the road towards the office, knowing that it was going to take an hour by car to arrive at the wedding, and he was going to need something faster. His security team was also gathering the best he had, sending them to the wedding as well, ready to take down the last of Moriarty’s network. Richard would finally be gone, dead, and not able to threaten them anymore. Stepping out of his car, he heard the way the helicopter's blades beat against the air, seeing it on the pad not to far away. Straightening his jacket, he took the headset from the assistant before climbing into the pilot's seat, preparing for take off. 

          Twenty minutes later he was at the wedding, and a total of forty two minutes had passed since both Gregory and Sherlock had contacted him, landing down and shutting down the engine before rushing off towards the hall. Checking his mobile, he had about ten minutes before his team would arrive, close behind him as he took a deep breath at the door, showing his badge to the police officers outside before they would let him in. Looking around, he saw all of the guests still mingling, as if nothing were wrong, his brows furrowed in confusion as to where the fire was. Catching one of the officers as they walked by, he quickly asked where Gregory was, the man pointing to a smaller room off the main hall. Knocking before entering, he heard his partner's voice calling him in, mentally readying himself before entering. “Good evening love.” The look of shock on everyone’s face except for his brother’s, and the relief on his partners was an interesting sign, that no one knew he was coming. John and Mary both looked rather confused as to why he would be there, but then again, they would when he had said he wouldn’t be in attendance. “Sorry to stop in unannounced, but with the circumstances, I think it might be forgivable.”  

          “Circumstances?” John argued, looking back at Gregory and Sherlock with a frown. “We’ve told you everything we know. The photographer did this, and Mary just happened to hire the wrong person,” 

          “I know, I know, but the fact that this involves an attack on the Queen’s guard, so it sort of involves him.” Gregory explained, rubbing the back of his neck as he moved closer to greet him. “Everyone safe?” Mycroft nodded, knowing the man was concerned for their family, but he knew the team had brought them all to the safehouse until the all clear was given. 

          “Look, I understand how important all of this is, but this is our wedding day. James is safe and headed to the hospital, Greg’s arrested the man, and you have our statements. Now if you’ll forgive us, we have a cake to slice and it’s our day.” This was where it would get tricky, having to confront Mary and watching John fall into pieces yet again because of Richard. 

          “I’m afraid we cannot let you go back, John.” It didn’t make matters any easier as they hadn’t spoken since the man had shown up at his home and assaulted him, and he knew this wouldn’t gain him any favours, but they couldn’t just look the other way because the sniper happened to have married John. “We have received information from a very reliable source about the last sniper that Sherlock had been hunting, the one who escaped. They are the reason James had his accident in Afghanistan, it was an attempt on his life specifically.” Luckily Sherlock had filled him in on the situation on the way over, having been able to read the messages between walking to the helicopter and towards the hall. Shifting his weight on his feet, he could see the confusion on John’s face, knowing that he was going to ask what that had to do with their wedding, and instead of waiting, he beat him to the punch line. “They are here today. I’m afraid that is why James was put in the crosshairs yet again. The photographer didn’t work alone.” Mycroft kept his eyes trained on Mary the whole time, waiting for her to make a move, to threaten them, to try and use John against them, anything, but she strayed rather calm. 

          “What do you mean, the photographer didn’t work alone? They were here by themselves! They arrived by themselves, they don’t know anyone here save Mary, and only because she hired him!” 

          “I chose him because I liked his photography…” Mary spoke, Mycroft raising a brow at her answer, still impressed that she was managing to stay collected. 

          “What are you on about? Just get to the point, would you? Not all of us are as brilliant as you Holmeses.” 

          “John… we have reason to believe that Mary chose your photographer for a very specific reason. He’s not a professional, but his brother was in James’ command when they were attacked…” Gregory said softly, Mycroft still trained on Mary. 

          “You don’t seem rather phased that we are accusing you of being a sniper that works for Moriarty,” Lifting his chin, he looked down at the woman, sensing that something wasn’t right, that there was something coming, something bad. 

          “I do think you are all nutters, but this day has been rather hectic, and like I said before, living with Sherlock Holmes is like one big cluedo game, and I’m sorry, but I did not kill James Sholto, in the reception hall, with a small dagger,” She chuckled, looking between John and the others. 

          “Good bye James Sholto.” Sherlock finally spoke, all eyes going to him, the false smile disappearing as Mary glared daggers at the man. “Those four words. That was your mistake. James had heard you say those four words to him when you stood over him in the desert, when you thought he was going to die. You said them to him again tonight, after trying to take off his belt. He recognised you instantly.” His tone wasn’t harsh, or accusing, just calm and stating the facts, as if they were having a commonplace conversation. Mary looked to Sherlock, as if she were trying to come up with something to say, Mycroft watching the woman as she turned to look back at John who was starting to ask questions. 

          “Sherlock,” John’s voice was barely a whisper as he turned to his wife, his expression a mixture of pain and confusion. “You tried to tell James to take his belt off? While I was going to get help?” 

          “You can’t seriously believe this, can you? I’m your wife John-” 

          “No… no. James is… James was never part of this. He’s never done anything. What the hell?” 

          “John,” Gregory warned softly, glancing to him for some help. 

          “You’re telling me you just happened to hire an amateur photographer who just happened to have lost his brother in the attack against my Major, to take photogs at our wedding where he would just so happen to be in uniform?” John hissed, pulling away from Mary. “What am I supposed to believe?” 

          “You dismissed me! I’m a nurse, John, I work at the hospital with you, why didn’t you think I could help? I figured I would look him over till you got there, I-” 

          “I  _ told  _ James to leave his belt on.  _ I  _ told him. I went to get help because we were going to act fast once we did start!” 

          “John… I’m sorry, I just wanted to help… I-I… How was I supposed to know he was even going to show, he’s a recluse, and I didn’t know the photographer was related to anyone that died in that attack!” Mary pleaded, her act rather convincing as Mycroft watched, waiting for it to drop, waiting for her to reveal who she truly was. She was holding on tight though, not wanting to lose John for whatever reason, but she didn’t have history with him like the rest of them did, and it was clear that James meant more to John than she did. 

          “I told you James would come. I know him, you don’t.” 

          “The night you skyped with James, right before the attack, when you planned to have him home on leave, John… Someone had hacked into the feed and heard your conversation. I couldn’t pinpoint who they were at the time, their skills surpassing my own. It was Mary. That was how she knew where James would be, and to inform the militants. Mary Morstan isn’t her name, either. The real Mary died in 1932.” Mycroft started, having had his team do a background check on her name while he flew in. Gregory had done one a while back, but nothing as extensive as he could manage. “I’m sorry John. I know you and I haven’t been on the best of terms, but I wouldn’t do this to you.” 

          “Then why today? Why  _ now?  _ Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” 

          “Because we were trying to respect your wish of wanting us to leave you alone.” Gregory explained with a sigh. “We looked up Mary’s name when you two got serious, but I ran the background check, not Mycroft. Nothing came up. Literally nothing, no parking tickets, no warnings, nothing. My database isn’t as extensive as My’s though… we left it there, until now, when we finally had proof that Mary was the one who had targeted James.” Before any of them could react, Mary had moved behind John, having pulled a knife from out of thin air, the blade pressed against the man’s neck as a devious grin played across her lips. She held him tight to her chest, one arm bent backwards behind him. Granted, a slit throat wouldn’t necessarily kill him, he would take one hell of a blow and it would take quite a bit to heal, but he wouldn’t die, unless she knew about immortality and went for his temple instead. Moriarty, Richard, had told other’s his twisted version, but that didn’t mean that he had told them how to kill one. Sherlock had lunged forward when he saw Mary move, Gregory reaching for his gun and holding it level with her head, Mycroft looking between them all. 

          “Well, I guess this couldn’t have lasted long once Sherlock came back, hmm?” Her voice was different somehow, not quite as sweet. “You just couldn’t leave well enough alone, always have to meddle, to dig, because we all know the great Sherlock Holmes loves John Watson. We all knew this would be the end though, this was what Richard really wanted. I shouldn’t have listened to my brother, Sebastian always did have a soft spot for Moriarty. I should have killed John when I had the chance, but he said that I had to follow orders, to not harm anyone if Sherlock jumped. Well, you didn’t die… did you? Guess that means I can do as I wish.” 


	57. LVI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! This is the last chapter! Thank you so much for your continued patience and your continued support! This has been a huge undertaking for Kaitlin and I, and we worked every day, literally every day on this story to be able to bring you chapters every Saturday! We are amazed by the support, the comments, the hits and the kudos that we have received, and it makes all of this worth it! We will be going back and updating the beginning chapters, editing for continuity, and because we didn't realise how in depth we were going to get with this. We had originally planned for this to be no longer than 200 pages, we are up past 725 in our google doc right now, we actually had to start a second because we went past the limit for the first. We want to make sure we polish this as best we can, so we want to go back and rework the beginning ones. We are going to take a short break first, and I'm going on my honeymoon! So it will be a couple weeks before the next update comes out, but keep your eyes open for it! Thank you again for all the love and support! We plan to continue to write one shots, based off this universe, and some not so, and possible another large story (Though not quite this big) based off Anthea and Ryan if there is enough want for that to happen! So thank you again! It means a lot to the both of us!

          “Mycroft, bigas ubi est?”  _ Mycroft, where is the team?  _ Mary looked even more irritated when they started speaking in Latin, her grip tightening on John, but Mycroft was more focused on what she had just said. Sebastian, her brother? She was a Moran? It made sense, why they had such a difficult time tracking down the last of Richard’s network, because they had only been looking for one person, not two. It had never occurred to him that there would be siblings.

          “Ad sinistram.”  _ Go left.  _ His attention was drawn back when he heard John speaking, looking over to his brother who just gave him a short nod. It all happened so quickly, John driving his elbow back into Mary’s stomach, and as he was twisting away from her, the woman shouted as he bent her wrist further than it should go, a loud pop echoing through the air. At the same time, Sherlock stepped to his left, moving John behind him and putting distance between the man and Mary, and while she was distracted with them, ready to retaliate, he took his chance. Stepping towards the woman, he grabbed her good arm and twisted it back behind her, pinning her against the wall with a snarl. 

          “I will make sure you never see the light of day again, or your brother. No one threatens my family.” Mycroft hissed in her ear, reaching back and holding his hand out, looking for Gregory’s cuffs so he could make sure she was secured. When he felt the weight of the metal in his hands, he easily snapped them around her wrists, giving a rather smug smirk when he heard her hiss in pain from the injury to her arm. Gregory went through her rights out of habit, Mycroft keeping her in place as he did so. 

          “Though to be completely honest, you’re a traitor so none of your rights exist anymore, and the Queen is rather fond of our daughter, so the fact that you threatened any of us will only anger her more. John, does her wrist need to be seen?” 

          “It’s dislocated,” The doctor spoke up, still standing behind Sherlock. “She’ll be fine until you get her wherever it is you’re taking her, Mycroft.” 

          “Good. Off you pop.” 

          “I will take care of this love,” Mycroft whispered to Gregory, shoving Mary towards the door as he looked to his partner, leaning to give him a quick kiss before exiting and looking for his security team to help secure the woman for transport. 

*****

          “Right…” Greg sighed once they were alone again, looking back at John and Sherlock, the both of them looking in different ways defeated by the day. “John, I’m sorry it got this far, I truly am. I genuinely had no idea. I had told Mycroft to step away after… well, everything that had happened, but we had never imagined it would come to this. I know it’s not much comfort, but obviously the marriage is void since she used a false identity, and you won’t be held as an accomplice to anything that’s happened.” 

          “This is my fault. I should have seen that something was off. I ignored any signs because I wished for you to be happy, and knew that I had meddled enough in your life,” 

          “Shut up, both of you,” John murmured, Greg looking down as he pressed his lips into a slight frown. “I don’t blame any of you, I don’t blame anyone. I just want out of this damn tux, and a very heavy scotch and to sleep for a couple of days. Hell, I lived and worked with her for years, you don’t think I should have noticed something too?” Looking to Sherlock, he gave the man a look to warn him not to answer that, the detective just looking sad and thankfully keeping his mouth shut. “What do you need to do?” 

          “I’ll need to speak with My to figure out exactly what we need to do, but I’m sure they’ll be wanting to search your home for any evidence she may have left there. They will probably ask for you not to be there-” 

          “I don’t want to go back there anyway,” John admitted, Greg just giving a small nod as he shifted uncomfortably between his feet. “Guess I’ll be sleeping on sofas for a bit then.” 

          “You will never have to sleep on a sofa or go on thinking you don’t have a home. You are always welcome at Baker Street, but I understand if you’d rather stay elsewhere. Even if you don’t wish to stay with me, I will find other lodgings, but I’m sure Mrs. Hudson would love to have you  back.” He was doing a horrible job of pretending like he wasn’t just stalling to hear what John was about to say, but the doctor didn’t seem to mind in that moment. No matter what he said, it would have been known the moment he left the room, so it might as well be heard now. 

          “I know it sounds stupid, but I want to sleep on a sofa tonight. I want to be miserable. Everything I thought I had just fell apart in front of me, and I don’t want to pretend like everything’s fine. Even if that sofa is at Baker Street, I want to stay on one. I don’t even think I’ll be sleeping tonight.” He accepted with a thin smile to the both of them. “We should probably go and tell everyone what’s happened today, then I want to go see how James is doing. So, Ready?”  

          The guests took the news rather well, shocked albeit, but they didn’t ask any questions, rather gave John their apologies and offered their help in any way possible before leaving the hall. Mary was safely in Mycroft’s teams custody, the wedding guests all clearing out and John had already made plans to stay with Sherlock, so it looked like things were wrapping up. Greg smiled as he felt Mycroft pull him close, still tense from Mary but relaxing now that he knew everyone was safe. 

          “I think things are wrapped up here, we should really be getting back. Anthea and Ryan will want to know they are safe, and I’m sure Elise misses us. I think it will be nice to take a breather as well, as tonight has been more than either of us bargained for.” 

          “I’m glad everyone  _ is  _ safe. I was scared it would be Moriarty all over again if things didn’t go as she wanted them to,” Greg admitted softly, leaning up to kiss Mycroft’s cheek before shivering at the nibble on his ear. 

          “There’s a helicopter waiting for us, that I flew. I could see how impressed you were when I detained Mary, how does seeing me fly a helicopter rank for you?” 

          “I think I’m more shocked than I feel I should be at this point with the things you can do,” He laughed, lightly pushing him away as they started towards a large field where the helicopter sat waiting for them. Nodding his thanks when he was handed a headset, Greg tucked himself into the back and safely out of the way, biting his lip at the odd feeling of lifting straight up before getting on their way back to London. 

          The city had always been beautiful to him, but to see it from the air in a helicopter made Greg forget himself for a time, pressed up against the window in awe until the copilot warned him that they were coming in for a landing. Back in one of Mycroft’s ever waiting cars, Greg waited until he knew the driver was busy navigating through the city’s traffic before pulling his partner close for a deep kiss. 

          “I love you, and seeing you take control like that was really hot, but let’s agree to never find ourselves in that sort of situation ever again,” He breathed, wishing they could have an excuse to have some private time to themselves before going back to everyone else, but at the same time, Greg found he desperately wanted to see Elise for himself and know she was safe. 

          “I love you too, my heart, and I promise I will attempt to keep us out of any sort of danger even remotely close to that in the future.” 

          “This also makes me even more sure on having a small wedding for the two of us, and absolutely no photographers that we don’t personally know.” Greg hummed contently as he rested against Mycroft’s chest, a slightly possessive arm thrown across his waist to hold him close.

          “Is a photographer really necessary? You know how I feel about photos, Gregory…” 

          “By photographer, I mean my mum and her camera. I know your feelings on photos, but I do think it would be nice to have a family portrait to add to your collection of our final wedding” He said softly, closing his eyes and only meaning to rest for a moment until he felt Mycroft shaking him softly awake. 

          “My love, we are here. Come now, I’m sure Elise is waiting up to see you.” 

          “I guess the stress got to me,” Greg admitted as he rubbed the back of his neck, working the muscles from having falling asleep in an odd position as he climbed out in front of a small building. “I’m guessing this is a safe house?” He asked, making their way up to the door to a building he’d never seen before. Grinning when the door opened, he was greeted to a sight of Elise running down to tackle his legs. 

          “Daddy! Tata!” 

          “Hello, my light! How are you my darling?” Greg kissed her cheek, hugging her tight to his side as they stood at the door. “I missed you, my heart.” 

          “The threat has been neutralised. Thank you for watching over them. They are safe to return home.” The security staff stood looking to them both, giving Mycroft a short nod before stepping out and speaking softly over the radio. “I’m sorry friends that you had to spend your evening here. We just didn’t want you under any danger, and the last of Richard’s contacts was at the wedding and had hired help.” 

          “We had assumed it must have been something to be brought here without any warning,” Anthea gave a tired smile, her hand on Ryan’s knee as they sat on the couch, Miles on his stomach watching toons on the floor. 

          “Did you bring back birthday cake?” Elise asked, interrupting everyone from Greg’s hip and earning a confused laugh from her dad. 

          “I told her it wasn’t a birthday, but she wouldn’t listen.” Miles spoke up, looking more like a frustrated big brother than a cousin at the moment. 

          “Miles said you went to a party with people and birthday cake.” 

          “Just cake, Elise! Not everything is a birthday!” 

          “Miles, mate, it’s fine,” Greg laughed, far more amused by the half fight between the two kids and still a bit giddy at the flood of relief knowing it was all over now. “No, Elise, I didn’t bring any cake home. Tata and I were busy getting someone very bad that we didn’t have time to get any, but if you’re good, maybe we can make some biscuits tomorrow okay?” He offered, hoping to soothe everyone’s frustrations that way before setting his daughter down. 

          “Even if we did have cake, little light, what makes you think you could have some at this time of night?” Mycroft crouched, pressing a kiss to her cheek, Elise looking a tad disappointed. “Be good and you can have biscuits with dad tomorrow.” Looking to Anthea and Ryan, Greg lowered his voice, not wanting the kids to pay too much attention to the next bit. 

          “It was Mary. She was the one behind the attack on James Sholto, and had targeted him again because of her obsession with John. James should be alright, and John’s voluntarily staying at Baker Street tonight with Sherlock. Hopefully this is all done now once and for all.” 

          “We really should have seen it before, but thank the gods that no one was,” Mycroft moved to cover Elise’s ears, whispering the next bit. “Killed.” 

          “That’s awful. I feel sorry for John, poor bloke can’t seem to catch a break.” Ryan sighed, moving to stand and turn off the tell, earning a protest from Miles. “Get up lad, time to get out and get you into bed. You should have been there hours ago, you are lucky you’re up this late.” Greg nodded as he brushed his fingers over Elise’s hair, smiling as he looked down and she was falling asleep leaning against him. Crouching down, he picked her up with a grunt, feeling the little one grow heavy against his shoulder. 

          “I know, but hopefully things will start to get better for him now. I think sometimes it’s from trying to force things to be the way he wants them. I know how that can be.” He shrugged, kissing Elise’s temple as the little one tucked her head into his neck. 

          “I’m not tired,” Miles complained as he took Anthea’s hand, all of them gathering their things before stepping outside where the two cars waited for them. 

          “You will be by the time we get home. If not, you can call and complain to me,” Greg teased, pressing his hand against the boy's back as he hugged him goodbye before doing the same to Mycroft. “We’ll have to have some time together later on before our wedding. My own stag night, yeah?” He asked  with a raised eyebrow to Ryan before smiling to Mycroft. “Aw come on, it’ll be fun. Not like I’m going to do anything stupid.” 

          “That is the very definition of a stag night. Going out with your mates and doing stupid things. Ryan and John always get you into trouble when you go out with them, have every life, so do not even try and use that line on me, Gregory.” Greg laughed as he shifted his hold on Elise to shake hands goodnight, settling his daughter into her seat before relaxing back with Mycroft in the car, linking their hands as he stifled his own yawn once more. 

          “You know I won’t get into any terrible trouble, just silly stuff. I promise you won’t have to bail me out like I had to John and Sherlock,” he chuckled, knowing that he always had fun with John and Ryan when they got together, but things were different this time. They were parents, which Greg was sure was going to change things for everyone. “One last night out before you’re stuck with me forever and ever.” 

          “I have only been with you, and have been faithful to you for over two thousand years. I am certain that the next couple thousand won’t make me change my mind,”

          “It was a joke, silly,” Greg teased, leaning over to kiss Mycroft lazily. There was still certain things to learn about his immortality, like how to move from one place to another and creating a new life and how that would work, but that would come later on. For now he was simply happy and was going to enjoy it for as long as humanly possible. Smiling as they arrived home, Greg gently scooped Elise up into his arms and Mycroft lead the way, putting their very sleepy daughter to bed before following the man up to their bedroom where he was already undressing for the night. “I’m sorry today was so eventful, but I’m glad we can finally put all of this business with Moriarty, Richard , whatever, behind us for good.”

          “It wasn’t your fault my heart, no reason to apologise. I am just as glad as you are that this will all be behind us now. We can finally focus on our future, with you staying, our sweet Elise in our arms, and our final marriage. Come my moon,” Greg stretched his arms high above his head as he joined Mycroft in their bed, popping his back in a few places before climbing under the blankets beside his partner and throwing an arm over the man’s chest. 

          “I know you don’t like photos, but I do want a few just to add to our collection. As for everything else, I know we’ll have our families at the domus, Anthea will officiate, and the rest will be history,” He mused out loud, grinning at the idea as he shuffled it around in his head before closing his eyes with a content sigh. “For my family’s sake, it would probably be best if we didn’t do the whole wedding in Latin, though I’d be happy to do our vows in it. I still haven’t explained it all to my parents, and to be honest, I still don’t know how to. I keep thinking I’ll figure out something, and so far I haven’t.” 

          “Fine, we won’t do the whole wedding in Latin, but we  _ will  _ be wearing our original Roman garb.” Greg chuckled as Mycroft countered him to wear their togas, already fully expecting Elise to be wearing hers. 

          “I guess,” He drawled out, grinning as he tipped Mycroft’s chin up to kiss him sweetly once more. 

          “You will figure it out, and you will know when the time is right to tell your parents. Don’t worry about it amica mea. Everything will come together, I promise you.” 

          “I know it will, I just wish I knew what to say now, and how they’ll react.” Greg mumbled, feeling his partner starting to drift. He certainly didn’t blame him, having already fallen asleep once today without meaning to. “Goodnight, my sun. I love you.” He murmured, closing his eyes and quickly following suit, thankful that Elise was old enough to allow them to get a proper lie in the next morning. 

*****

          Greg grinned as he saw John and Sherlock come into the pub, waving to them from where he and Ryan had already claimed a corner booth and had a basket of chips. Mycroft still hadn’t liked the idea of him having his stand night, but had given him it anyway, agreeing to spend his own with Anthea doing whatever they wanted as well. Holding back the urge to tease him about having a spa night together, Greg was simply glad to have Ryan willing to be wing man, knowing that Mycroft would send one of his cars to be their driver later on. 

          “John! Sherlock!” He greeted them happily, waving to the bartender who already knew him for another order of shots for them all once everyone was there. “I’m glad you both made it!” 

          “Yes, well John wasn’t going to allow me to stay home with my experiments,” Sherlock mumbled under his breath, taking a seat at the table and sulking. 

          “Just ignore Sherlock like normal. Of course we would make it,” Greg still happily shook John’s hand, knowing the man was still recovering from his own failed wedding, but hoping to keep their night light and happy and hopefully not getting arrested. 

          “Nah, I won’t ignore him. I’ll just fill him with alcohol until he’s fun.” He teased him with a playful elbow as Ryan brought over the shots for everyone.

          “Be nice, all of you. Now come on, to Greg, the man of the night! To your future!” He chuckled, raising his glass along with everyone else before they all tossed them back, Greg coughing slightly from the burn before nibbling at some of the chips in front of them. 

          “Ta mate,” The D.C.I. smiled warmly as he looked around at his friends, offering some chips around to the others. “Though, if you’re going to sulk so much, at least I don’t have to worry about being roasted by you.” 

          “My intention is not to get so drunk as to repeat last times actions. Do not worry, Lestrade. I wouldn’t waste my mind on insulting you when you are too pissed to be able to understand them, especially when you all have a difficult time understanding them normally.” 

          “Lighten up Sherlock, seriously, or I’m getting rid of the fingers in the fridge and the tobacco in the bathroom,” John threatened, leveling the other with a glare. Greg smirked over at Ryan as John and Sherlock bickered with each other, glad to know they were doing alright. It may be some time before they got to where they had been in the past, but they had all the time in the world to get there. 

          “If you were that drunk again, we’d have problems,” He teased lightly, sipping at his beer that he had off to the side as he looked around the pub. He honestly didn’t have much planned at all between them, just to hang out and chat with drinks. “Besides, it’s not like things are going to change all that much after our wedding. We already have our family and we’ve been living as though we’ve been married for a couple years now. It’s more a fun technicality at this point,” 

          “Nah mate, things won’t change now, but I know in a couple hundred years they will. You’ll be asking for another party just because you’ve never stayed around this long,” Ryan started, downing another beer and slamming it on the table. “Believe me, you eventually get used to it, but after a few hundred years, it finally hits you that this is real and at that point, you’re going to want to drink to forget. Goes for you too mate,” Ryan chuckled and gave John a playful shove. 

          “Oi, it’s my night, not yours.” Greg laughed as he watched Ryan order another drink, having already gotten a headstart when they first arrived. “Well I doubt that I’ll drink to forget.” 

          “I just might if it’s always going to be fingers and toes in the ice box,” John joked lightly, grinning over at Sherlock when the man slipped further into his chair. 

          “Come on Sherlock, you can’t be a downer and not expect to be the target of a few easy jokes,” Greg nudged Sherlock’s shoulder with an easy smile, finishing his own beer and getting a new one to sip at. “I’m excited to see what life’ll be like then. What I’ll be doing then, what Elise and Miles will be doing… all of it. But tonight is supposed to be stupid fun, so let’s not worry about all of that just yet, hm?” 

          “Cheers!” Ryan shouted, holding up his beer as the rest of them toasted with him, beer sloshing down as they chuckled and down another set of shots. 

 

          “Oi, mates, I love this song!” John smiled, leaning against Greg as the music played over the radio, bobbing his head along with the beat. “We’ve got to sing this one, come on!” Grabbing onto his arm, John pulled him up on stage, standing on wobbly legs behind the microphone as the lyrics started and he stumbled over the first few words with a giggle. Sherlock and Ryan watched them from the crowd, Sherlock having toned down a bit and loosened up once they had got a few drinks into him. He tried to pull away from the other, whining how he didn’t want to, but this pub had already been far more fun than the last and everyone already knew it was his stag night so they were quickly followed by a wide array of cheers. The worst was seeing Sherlock already pulling out his mobile to record them, certainly having expected such from Ryan, but seeing the smirk the detective had on his face, he knew nothing good was going to come from it. 

          “You’re a bastard,” Greg said with a smirk back at John as they struggled with the words until they got to the chorus. “An eyy wood walk fir hun-red miles,” He sang overly dramatic, drawing out a horrible accent before collapsing into a fit of giggles, leaning against John as they both tried to finished the words without laughing too hard. 

          “Dah dah dah da!” John shouted, laughing when Greg’s voice squeaked, snickering as they both leaned against each other again. When the song was done, it was for the best as they were both barely standing, laughing too hard and the copious amount of alcohol in their system didn’t help either. Luckily they had a bit of help returning to their booth, Greg groaning as he sat heavily back down, quickly draining the last of his beer as Sherlock still held the phone above John’s reach with an evil smirk. “Well, I’m sure all of us have  _ actually  _ walked five hundred miles… come on Sherlock, phone away!” 

          “You’re sending that to My, aren’t you?” He complained, the detective nodding proudly as Ryan cheered. 

          “Oh yes, Anthea’s already praising your singing abilities.” Sherlock confirmed as he pinned John’s arms down to his side and fought to look back at the screen to see the collection of texts that were popping up. 

          “You’re just jealous.” Greg laughed when the bartender brought around a set of shots someone had ordered for them. “Cheers to us!” 

          “Come on Sherlock, at least do one song before we leave,” John moaned, leaning against the detective’s shoulder now as he looked up to the other. “What do you think, Greg? Should Sherlock sing us a song?” 

          “Yeah mate, sing us a song lad!” Ryan started, his accent coming through a little thicker as the night progressed. He was lucky he had known him all those years or he would have had a terrible time trying to understand what he was saying. 

          “Go on! Do it!” He cheered, starting to chant a bit and get a few other tables to join in until Sherlock finally relented to a large cheer. Ordering a few shots and a soda to chase, Greg sat back and grinned as he watched Sherlock sing, surprised of how well he was actually able to do, even while drunk, just happy beyond the alcohol drumming through his veins. Whistling once the song was over, Greg applauded and cheered overly loud as the man came back to sit with them, scrubbing his hand through the man’s hair as they all laughed together. “This is why I wanted this! My be damned, he doesn’t know what he’s missing out on!” 

          “I love that stiff, I do, but he’s never been one for a party, even for a Roman he was considered reserved,” Ryan chuckled, taking another few shots as Sherlock slumped back down into the booth. “Well mate, we can go to another bar, or get more shots here, next round on me. What do you say?” Greg shook his head as Ryan asked if he wanted more to drink, rubbing his face with the back of his hand and he tried to clear his head a bit more than it already was. Drinking sounded fun, but he didn’t feel like testing out immortality and a hangover. 

          “Nah, let’s call it a night. We’ve been drinking plenty and staying out longer than  _ some people _ ,” He dragged out, giving a pointed look to John and Sherlock who looked away embarrassed. “And I don’t feel like finding out what an even worse hangover will be like tomorrow,” Greg nodded as he stood, catching himself on the table and steadying himself as he sorted it out before laughing at how the alcohol kicked in more now that he was standing. Giving a strong pat on John’s back and ruffling his hand through Sherlock’s hair as his goodnight, he walked out with Ryan’s help out to a waiting car, grinning when the driver immediately handed him a sports drink for him to sip at on their way home. “Ta mate,” Greg slurred, tucking himself into the corner of the car and forcing himself to try and drink as much as he could know it would help with his head in the morning, groaning when he saw Mycroft waiting for him at the doorway when they pulled up in front of their house. “We were good! I didn’t get locked up. It was fun, you shouldn’t come. Sherlock sang, it was good!” 

          “Gregory, my love, keep your voice down, there are people trying to sleep, including your daughter. Thank you for bringing him home, I will take it from here,” Mycroft dismissed the driver, wrapping an arm around his waist as he helped him stand. “I would say you should get to bed, but I’m afraid you can’t climb the stairs and I don’t feel like attempting to help you and having us both in the hospital because we fell.”  

          “You’re mean, I’m awesome,” Greg sulked as he sat on the sofa, trying to finish his drink before falling asleep since he knew it would help his head. 

          “Normally I would say that I appreciate your singing voice, but I fear that it isn’t as sweet when you are drunk,” 

          “Come’ere,” He decided after a minute, holding his arm out towards Mycroft, wanting him closer. “Feels like you’re angry.” 

          “I’m not angry love, actually I’m rather amused,” Curling up against the man’s side once they were next to each other, Greg hummed off key before breaking into another fit of giggles, wrapping his arms tight around the politician’s stomach so he couldn’t go anywhere. 

          “Love you. Forever and ever and ever, and you’re stuck with me, and you’re comfy.” He pointed out, grinning up at Mycroft before nuzzling into his shoulder. “Always and always. Will you make bacon in the morning? Bacon sandwiches sound good.” Those fingers found their way through his hair, Greg practically purring as he closed his eyes and started to drift. 

          “I’m not sure you want me to cook, but I will do my best my love. Now sleep. I am happy to be stuck with you, but you will regret not going to bed sooner in the morning.” Greg let out a small murmur of protest before settling in, feeling himself start to let go. 

*****

          They hadn’t been in Rome long, but his team had done a perfect job in setting up the domus, the bedrooms all prepared for family, and they made sure someone had been at the airport to meet everyone so they were taken back here without problems. It had been interesting to see John’s recognition at being back here, Sherlock standing by him patiently, his temper far different now that John and him were on better terms, and things were starting to look up between them. Pulling his toga out of the closet along with Gregory’s and Elise’s, he laid them out on the bed with a soft smile. His heart fluttered at the idea of marrying his beloved for a final time, where this had all started, and with their daughter. Slipping into his toga felt like coming home, folding the last bit of cloth over his arm as Gregory came up behind him and wrapped his arms around his waist. 

          “My family’s going to think we’re ridiculous for getting married in costume, but life likes to circle back to the start, doesn’t it? I love you…” 

          “That is only because they do not understand the significance my love, but we do. Today is about us my heart, the sun,” Mycroft moved to face the other, giving him a soft kiss. “The moon,” He smiled pulling back, Elise running in and looking to them both. “And their little light,” Walking over, he guided the girl over to the bed, taking off her clothes and slipping her into the tunic that was just a tad too big, but fit her far better than it had at Christmas. “You should get dressed as well, amica mea,” 

          “I’m sure you’ll forgive me if I don’t stay completely true to history. I know you miss plenty of things from the past, but deodorant and mouthwash are glorious inventions.” Rolling his eyes at the jest about the past, Mycroft helped the man get into his toga, wrapping it around him and pinning it to his shoulder with their house crest. Turning to face the mirror, he smiled as he looked at both of them, his heart swelling as he saw their dress, their little one bouncing on the bed behind them in hers. It was as if he hadn’t waited all those years for all of this, and they were back in Rome all those centuries ago. His eyes fell to Gregory and he could see the man on the verge of tears, Mycroft turning and taking his head in his hands. “Thank you. For giving me… everything, my life back after Caroline, your patience, a family… everything. Thank you.”

          “Luna mihi: ego dabo tibi si mundus me.”  _ My moon, I would give you the world if you asked me. _

          “Daddy, why’re you crying?” Holding the man tight, he couldn’t help but chuckle at Elise’s question, looking down to her and pressing her in close. 

          “I’m happy love. Sometimes people cry when they’re happy and it’s hard to really understand why, but it just is.” 

          “Will there be cake tonight?” Crouching down, he smiled when she asked about cake, shaking his head while he straightened her tunic out once more. 

          “Levis, ne clamor pauci hodie, ut scias quia beatus. Hodie specialis diem. Scis quid?”  _ Little light, there might be a few people crying today, but know that it is because they are very happy. Today is a special day. Do you know why? _

          “Because Daddy and Tata are getting married cause they love each other!” Elise announced happily, smiling up at her parents as Gregory kissed her cheek. 

          “That’s right, and your Tata has waited a long time for this day to come.” Gregory explained gently, smiling back at him as he took her hand. Mycroft felt his heart flutter as he listened to the both of them, still coming to terms with the idea that this would be the last time they did this. Somehow, though it had been years now, it was still a shock to him that Gregory was here to stay, that he wasn’t going to have to watch his love grow old and die again, that he wasn’t going to have to wait an unknown amount of time before he came back, this was it. Going now to get married in their meeting place, with their family and their daughter, he hoped it would cement it for him, make him realise how lucky he was that he wouldn’t have to go around again. Though, he always knew how lucky he had got with Gregory, the man was everything to him and had been since day one. “Ready?” 

          “Quia paratus sum tibi repente aspexerant.”  _ I have been ready since the moment I laid eyes on you.  _

 

          Gregory’s parents hadn’t exactly expressed their doubts as to why their whole family had to come to Rome, or the fact that Gregory and himself, along with Elise and Anthea were wearing togas, the woman having brought her own out of storage to marry them in, but it was clear on their faces they didn’t think it the most normal of things. It had been a long discussion for nights how and when to tell the man’s parents of his new immortality, and his life he held with himself was over the past two millennia. It was a discussion he had with the man every life in between, but he knew that Gregory would find the right moment and the right words, he always did. Arriving at the Pantheon, they both stepped out of the vehicle, Elise already undoing teh straps of her car seat and scampering out and around to hold his hand as they walked into the big building. 

          “Parum lucis ubi daddy est primum et occurrerunt. Propter illud quod maxime nos hic te nos quoque.”  _ My little light, this is where your daddy and I met each other for the first time. It’s a very special place because it led us here, and brought you to us as well.  _ It was easier to speak to her in Latin and not have everyone overhear the strange things he might be saying, but he also still favoured his mother tongue and wished to hear more of it from their daughter. There was a flutter in his heart to see his friends and family there, Sherlock arguing with John off to the side, his mother and father standing next to the two of them, and Anthea and Ryan with Miles, the little boy asking a hundred questions a minute about the city. Elise was trying to rush off when she saw everyone, Mycroft having to hold tight as they walked towards them, Gregory dismissing himself to go and speak with his parents. “Et tamen non dixerunt parentes ejus. Certus sum enim valde odd cogitant in nos, partim togati tectis,”  _ He still has not told his parents. I am sure they think it very odd we are in togas.  _ Mycroft chuckled as he shook his head, looking over to where his partner was explaining to his family about their dress. Looking back to Anthea, he could see the look in her eyes, and that she wanted to say more. “Quid est? Quid dices in corde tuo”  _ What? Say what is on your mind.  _ He knew her better than to just ignore that look, the woman always speaking her mind. 

          “Et non invenient. Quare non tamen eis dixit? Scio difficile, sed etiam debent esse omnibus hanc expositionem novis illis.”  _ They will find out. Why hasn’t he told them yet? I know it is difficult, but it must be strange explaining all of this to them.  _ Sighing, Mycroft closed his eyes for just a moment, taking a deep breath before looking to her again. 

          “Ipse est questus est. Hoc est primum quod de se habet dices ad eos, ut non ipse aetatem. Omnes aliis animabus, quod hoc modo se explicare meum est conditio. Ryan ego certe intellegis…”  _ He is getting there. This is the first time he has had to tell them about himself, that he will not age. All other lives, he has only had to explain to them my condition. Ryan, I am sure you understand…  _ Mycroft could see that Ryan was about to answer, that was still Gregory walked up beside him and looped an arm around his waist. 

          “Are we all ready?” 

          “Yes of course my moon.” 

          “I’ll tell them soon, it’s just hard to figure out the right time. Just… not on my wedding day.” 

          “I know my heart. I trust you will when the time is right,” Mycroft said softly as he leaned into the kiss, smiling softly as he felt the understanding between the two of them. 

          “Now, Elise, Miles, you remember what you’re both doing?” 

          “I’m bringing the rings up when Dad tells me to.” 

          “And I’m throwing flowers everywhere!” Elise said happily, drawing laughs from everyone as he knelt down carefully and kissed his daughter's forehead. 

          “Just along the path love, not at people,” Gregory reminded her, the little girl sounding sad at the thought of having to control herself before Gregory stood once more and took the two children’s hands. “I feel like a movie director saying this, but places everyone?” Chuckling, he moved towards  Mémé, holding out his arm to help her walk as Gregory led the children inside. As they stepped into the building, he escorted her to her seat, bending over and placing a quick kiss on of respect on her cheek. 

          “Je promets, je ferai tout pour rendre heureux Gregory. Il est ma vie et ma lumière, et signifie le monde pour moi et notre fille.”  _ I promise I will do everything make Gregory happy. He is my life and my light, and means the world to me and our daughter.  _ There was a smile on her face as she cupped his cheek, giving him a small nod as he covered her hand in his own. Placing one last kiss on her hand, he stepped away and took his spot next to Gregory, his heart fluttering at the thought of what they were about to do. Sure, they had been married a myriad of times before, and even on more than one occasion here in Rome, but this was different. This time, there wouldn’t be a ‘till death do us part’, because neither of them was going anywhere. 

          “Carissime paratus amici?”  _ Ready my dearest friends?  _ Anthea asked them both in a hushed tone, Mycroft giving her a soft smile and a nod before turning his attention to his partner. 

*****

          “We are gathered here today for the marriage-” Anthea began, Greg feeling like a horrible person as he immediately found himself trying not to laugh as Mycroft raised an eyebrow in question towards him. 

          “Mawwiage is what bwings us togewah today.” He whispered back, Mycroft simply rolling his eyes and Greg biting his lip to keep from laughing more even though he could tell that his partner was just as amused as he was. He would have to be for them to have stayed together as long as they had, to love him for so many lives and look for him time and time again. But this was it, really and truly it, their final wedding to one another not because of anything bad, but because he was here for good. Glancing over to where Elise was rocking back and forth on her heels beside Ryan, trying to behave, he smiled. Before he was even fully aware of the time passing, Greg was pulled back to attention as Anthea switched over to Latin, telling him that this was where he was supposed to speak up now. “Ego Gregori, tollet vos Mycroft, ut vir meus. Promitto tibi esse in malis et bonis apud nos inducas in tentationem. Amabo te omnibus diebus vitae meae et gloriam.”  _ I, Gregory, take you, Mycroft, to be my husband. I promise to be true to you in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health. I will love you and honour you all the days of my life.  _

          “Ego Mycroft, tollet vos Gregori, ut vir meus. Tamen nos nunquam adepto infirmos et mori nunquam, scio: et ibi erunt usque tempora, et in tempore tribulationis potente coli. Memor fui singulis annis duo preteritum et prospicite caritatem proximi exercitus ad adorationem. Ego promitto tibi semper in corde meo, ut sit semper fuisse, ex quo et gradus isti super omnes qui occurrit vobis primum abhinc annis. Cor meum et anima mea tua sunt mea luna, donec in fine dierum meorum."  _ I, Mycroft, take you Gregory, to be my husband. Though we shall never get sick, and never die, I know there will still be times of hardship and times to be cherished. I have remembered each of them over the past two thousand years, and I look forward with great love and adoration to the next thousands to come. I promise my heart will always be yours, as it always has been, since I first met you on these steps all those years ago. My heart and soul are yours, my moon, till the end of my days.  _ Greg swallowed thickly as he listened to Mycroft’s vow, definitely different than he had been expecting, but that only made it mean even more to him. Of course, as far as his family knew, they were clueless as to what he had said, but the emotion and love was apparent in Mycroft’s tone, and that was everything he needed. 

          “I love you,” He whispered, his voice tight as he blinked away the tears that were threatening to spill over. 

          “I love you too, my heart,” Turning to look down the aisle, he watched Elise and Miles come down to join them, their daughter taking little handfuls of petals and throwing them hard onto the ground, Greg laughing as he took his hands from Mycroft to wipe away the tears that were starting to spill over before taking his hand again and squeezing it tight to try and keep his emotions under control. Brushing his hand lightly over Elise’s hair when she joined them, smiling back at Mycroft as Miles joined them as well. 

          “Thank you lad, that you too my light.” 

          “Do you, Mycroft Holmes, take Gregory Lestrade to be your lawfully wedded husband, to love and to cherish, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, for as long as you both shall live?” Greg almost laughed again as Anthea said their vows in English, nearly arguing that they had already done this portion, but looking back at his parents he knew this was important for his family so they could be apart of this as well. 

          “I do.” 

          “Do you, Gregory Lestrade, take Mycroft Holmes to be your lawfully wedded husband, to love and to cherish, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, for as long as you both shall live?” 

          “I do,” He said with a nod, smiling back at Mycroft as he kept Elise close, this moment being when their family would truly come together in every way. 

          “Then I now pronounce you wed. Get him tiger,” Grinning when Anthea announced they were wed, Greg easily pulled his husband to him and kissed him deeply, only pulling away once Elise complained that it was gross, picking her up and pressing a kiss to one cheek as Mycroft kissed the other. 

          “Our light, our love. Our family is together now, forever and always,” He explained through a few more tears, grinning back at his parents where his mother was crying too, wiping a few tears away as his father simply took the phone from her hand as everyone stood to see them out once more, now married. 

          “Well my husband, I think it’s time to have our first dinner as a true family, what do you say?” Mycroft smiled, leaning down and placing a kiss on his cheek. “I think the little ones are eager for desserts as well,” 

          “Cake, cake, cake!” Elise chanted as if on queue, the rest of the family laughing as they looked down to her. 

          “Good first little light, then we can see about sweets.” 

          “Back to the domus then?” Greg asked, rubbing his hand along Elise’s back after putting her on his hips, even as she continued to chant about cake. “You’ll have cake, love. Promise,” He chuckled, letting Mycroft lead the way out and back to the cars waiting to take them home. 

*****

          Greg simply shook his head as he trudged back down to the beach with a small bag in his arm, holding sunscreen and water for Elise, and a half bottle of wine and glasses for himself and Mycroft. He was going to tease his husband about forgetting to get the sunscreen they had been so mindful to pack for them. Smiling to himself as he saw Elise sulk over to Mycroft with a look he had seen the politician give others that would cause them to pee themselves in fear. Greg knew that with time, they would no doubt be in trouble as she grew older, especially if she could handle that look now. 

          “Come here, let me get you covered in sun lotion and then you can get back to your castle.” He chuckled as he was greeted with another eye roll, though Elise was patient enough to let Greg cover her, making sure she wouldn’t get sick for the rest of their holiday. Sending her back out to play, Greg wiped his hands off on a towel before pouring them both a glass of wine and handing one over to Mycroft with a kiss. “I’m glad she likes being outside so much, even if it means we get to fight her about putting on lotion.” 

          “Yes, well she was cursed with her father’s pale complexion. Though I must admit, she does wear the freckles far better than I do. She will be a force to be reckoned with. She has both our stubbornness combined, and is already immune to my work voice and stare. I pale to think of how she will be in her teen years,” 

          “She’ll be amazing.” Greg laughed, leaning back in his chair with a content sigh. “She’s our daughter, My. She may be just as stubborn as us, but she’ll have our minds as well and know when she has to listen.” He pointed out, looking back when Elise squealed at the sight of a little fish stuck in a tidal pool. His chest still swelled and his heart fluttered at the thought of this being his always and forever now, a thought coming to mind as he pulled his mobile out and pulled up an email to sent to his parents. 

          “You said no work on our honeymoon,” Mycroft teased, Greg sticking out his tongue before looking back at his screen. 

          “It’s not work, I’m emailing my parents. I think I know how to tell them about my immortality now.” He murmured, tapping his thumbs against the sides before carefully tapping out his message and reading it out loud as well. “You know those fairy tales about finding your soulmate and living happily ever after? Turns out it’s not so made up…” 


End file.
